Part 7: Windows of the Soul

“-AND DO NOT COME BACK!!!”

The short, plump penguin waddled out of Professor Pizza’s Pizzas, honking angrily out front, as the professor floated in the doorway. He made his way over to the trash can, which sat outside. Oliver looked on through the window, pretending not to notice.

“THAT’S NOT YOURS, AVIAN. DON’T YOU DARE!!!” The penguin reached up with his flippers and, with great effort, tipped over the trash can, scattering garbage all over the sidewalk.

“I WILL DISINTEGRATE YOU!!!” The penguin loudly honked and brayed back across the parking lot, waving his flippers defiantly as he stormed off. “NOW THE NEWCOMER’S GOING TO HAVE TO CLEAN THAT UP!” Oliver bit down on the insides of his mouth, staring intently at the menu, trying not to laugh at the complete fiasco that was unfolding. Walter had been, in what would prove to be a rash decision, hired on the spot by the Professor as an extra set of flippers. However, in just one day, he had gotten into a shouting match with an actual child, made a complete mess out of the refrigerator, where he spent the majority of his time, tried to eat the phone, tried to reproduce with the soda machine, hadn’t done a single thing he was asked to, had clearly lied on his resume, and worst of all, without even a second thought, he had eaten all of the anchovies out of the back. All of them. Oliver never thought he’d miss having Wing Guy of all people around so much.

“NEVER HAVE I WITNESSED SUCH AN INFURIATINGLY DENSE LOWER LIFE FORM! I AM VEXED, NEWCOMER! VEXED!!!” Oliver recleaned the same spot he had cleaned five times.

“Don’t worry Professor. I’m sure the next one will work out better.” The professor floated back and forth across the room.

“I’M AFRAID NOT, NEWCOMER, FOR HE ATE THE NEW HELP WANTED SIGN! NOW NO ONE WILL COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT WE ARE WANTING OF THEIR HELP! GAH!!! IF ONLY MOBIUS HAD ICECAPS SO I COULD MELT THEM WITH THE DEVICE!!!” His meaty form sizzled with rage. “IF THE WORD ‘HATE’ WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANO- OH, WHO AM I KIDDING?!”

“It’s alright, Professor. We can’t let him get to us.” Oliver couldn’t help but feel vindicated, as he’d tried in vain to train Walter all day, but at the same time, they were now officially in no better of a position than they were yesterday. Now was not the time to create events of mass destruction, and Oliver could tell that deep down, the professor knew that. Oliver glanced at the little wooden step stool in the corner. A small part of him would definitely miss going back to being the shortest one here, now that Walter was gone. Oliver looked at his shoes.

“I was thinking, if worse comes to worse-”

“WE CREATE SLIGHTLY INFERIOR CLONES OF OURSELVES TO DO OUR BIDDING, BUT WITH 75% NEUROLOGICAL CAPACITY, A BUILT-IN KILLSWITCH, AND OTHER CLEAR DISTINGUISHING FEATURES TO AVOID A POTENTIAL CLONE REVOLT! MARVELOUS!!!” Oliver sighed.

“I was thinking maybe we could bring the four hundred forty-four pizzas to the meeting point, or-”

“BAH! PREPOSTEROUS!” The professor levitated a ball of dough, which he began to stretch with his mind. “AS I MENTIONED PREVIOUSLY, WE DO NOT ACCEPT HUMAN LIFE AS PAYMENT. BESIDES, WE HAVE NO IDEA WHO’S BEHIND THIS, OR IF THEY INTEND TO HOLD UP THEIR END OF THE BARGAIN! FOR ALL WE KNOW THEY COULD BE SOME KIND OF UNSCRUPULOUS SCUMBAGS.” Oliver opened a can of sauce.

“Professor, please! You’re not listening to me.”

“ON THE CONTRARY, NEWCOMER! DO NOT MISTAKE MY REJECTING YOU FOR MY IGNORANCE. FOR ALL WE KNOW, YOUR FORMER COWORKER HAS ALREADY SHUFFLED OFF THIS MORTAL COIL. THE MEETING POINT COULD ADDITIONALLY INDEED BE A PLOY TO GET US INTO A VULNERABLE STATE AND AMBUSH US, FOR THE PIZZA DELIVERY BUSINESS IS A RUTHLESS ONE RIFE WITH SKULDUGGERY, BETRAYAL, AND EMNITY. OR, SAY WE TOOK ON THE LABORIOUS TASK OF BAKING EXACTLY FOUR-HUNDRED FOURTY FOUR PIZZAS, STARTING AT THIS PRECISE MOMENT. OUR OVENS CAN CONTAIN EXACTLY EIGHT PIZZAS OF SUCH SIZE AND CALIBER AT A GIVEN TIME. EACH PIZZA TAKES PRECISELY TWENTY MINUTES TO COOK, WHICH IS A RATE OF TWENTY-FOUR PIZZAS AN HOUR, TWENTY FOUR HOURS A DAY, WHICH RESULTS IN EXACTLY EIGHTEEN AND A HALF PRECIOUS HOURS, NOT ACCOUNTING FOR THE ADDITIONAL TIME OF PRODUCTION, NOT COUNTING THE LABOR COST OF PAYING YOU TO DO SUCH THINGS, WHEN THERE IS BUSINESS TO BE HAD WITH OUR LABOR FORCE ALREADY CUT IN TWAIN, TWAIN, NOT ACCOUNTING FOR HUMAN FACTORS, OR IN YOUR CASE, MARSUPIAL FACTORS, PLUS THE NINETY-SEVEN THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED EIGHTY MOCRED WHICH WOULD BE LOST IN PARTAKING IN SUCH AN ENDEAVOR WITHOUT RECEIVING PAY…”

“So what, we’re not even going to try?” Oliver knew that Professor Pizza had a point, but nothing about this felt right. Marcus’ words rang true in his head, as Oliver’s frustration bubbled.

“YOUR HEART IS IN THE RIGHT PLACE, NEWCOMER, BOTH ANATOMICALLY AND METAPHORICALLY, SEEING AS I HAVE TAKEN THE LIBERTY OF SECRETLY SCANNING EVERYONE’S VITALS UPON ENTRY. HOWEVER, YOUR NAÏVETÉ HAS GOTTEN THE BETTER OF YOU. OUR FORMER RESIDENT WING SPECIALIST, AS WELL AS A CERTAIN MARCUS CHANG, AS WELL AS A CERTAIN AVIAN ANNOYANCE WHO THE UNDERWORLD HAS DECIDED TO CHRISTEN ‘WALTER’, ARE GONE, AND GETTING THEM BACK IS A FRUITLESS EFFORT WHICH IS NOT OUR PREROGATIVE. END OF DISCUSSION.”

Oliver’s posture sunk, as he let out a sigh. As much as he hated to admit it, the Professor was right. He was here to do a job.

“WORRY NOT, NEWCOMER, THERE’S ALWAYS THE CLONES.”

“How much would that even cost?” The meatball sunk, momentarily deep in thought.

“OH… THAT- THAT WAS A TEST, AND YOU’VE PASSED WITH FLYING COLORS! WORRY NOT, NEWCOMER, THERE’S ALWAYS THE BACKUP BACKUP HELP WANTED SIGN!” He propped the little notepad on the counter, branding it ‘Help Wanted’ with a bolt of psionic focus.

“NEVER ONCE HAD I THOUGHT I WOULD HAVE TO GIVE SUCH A DISCLAIMER, BUT THE NEW HELP WANTED SIGN IS NOT EDIBLE, SO PLEASE REFRAIN FROM EATING IT.” Oliver nodded, watching the professor telekinetically cast aside the dough back onto the counter.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Professor, I’m not trying to sound rude, but I’ve been wondering… er, what exactly are you?” Oliver had been working up the nerve to ask the Professor for a while.

“A MEATBALL. COULDN’T YOU TELL?” Oliver scratched his head.

“With all due respect, Professor, we don’t exactly have giant floating psychic meatballs back in my home dimension. What is it… that gives you life and makes you, well, you?” The professor paused.

“INTERESTING. NO ONE’S EVER ACTUALLY ASKED ME THAT BEFORE.” He floated towards the small koala. “HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF THE RAA’GUU?”

Oliver stood, confused. “Like the sau-”

“THE RAA’GUU ARE AN ANCIENT AND POWERFUL RACE OF BEINGS, BORN DIRECTLY FROM THE INFINITE COSMOS, CREATED IN A SIMILAR MANNER AS THE VERY FIRST ECHELONS OF LIFE.” Oliver looked at him, stunned.

“So like… alien gods?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“NOT GODS, NEWCOMER, THOUGH IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO WORSHIP ME AS SUCH, I CERTAINLY WON’T STOP YOU FROM DOING SO.” Oliver sat down in one of the plastic chairs.

“A RAA’GUU IS FIRST FORMED AS A PRIMORDIAL SPIRIT WANDERING BETWEEN WORLDS. OVER THE COURSE OF SEVERAL MILLENNIA, A RAA’GUU DEVELOPS INTO A PERMANENT MORTAL FORM AS IT FINDS ITS PURPOSE, AS IT DISCOVERS THAT WHICH GIVES ITS EXISTENCE MEANING. YOU SEE, NEWCOMER, MY PERFECTLY OPTIMIZED FORM DEVELOPED AS A RESULT OF MY DRIVE, MY CURIOSITY OF ALL THAT CURRENTLY IS, ALL THAT EVER WAS, ALL THAT EVER WILL BE, AND ALL THAT THEORETICALLY COULD BE. I AM A DENSE CLUSTER OF NEURONS DEVOTED TO TRUTH AND UNDERSTANDING, TO BOLSTER THE MASSES THROUGH THEIR MINDS, AND TO BRING ALL TOGETHER TO SEARCH FOR A HIGHER UNDERSTANDING AROUND THE PIZZA BOX, FOR THE EASIEST WAY TO ONE’S HEART, ASIDE FROM VIVISECTION, IS THROUGH THEIR STOMACH. I WAS ONCE BUT A COSMIC WISP, ALIVE ON WHAT THE COMMON MAN WOULD CALL A FLUKE, BUT I HAVE BECOME PROFESSOR PIZZA, PRACTITIONER OF PIZZA AND SEEKER OF THE HIGHEST KNOWLEDGE.”

“Wow, that’s… wow.” On one hand, Oliver was fascinated with what he was hearing. Millennia! The professor was ancient! On the other hand, keeping up with the professor was a task, to say the least. If the Professor had a face, it would be lighting up… at least he thought. He wasn’t quite sure sometimes. “Are there many others?” Professor Pizza hesitated.

“TO BE A RAA’GUU IS A LONELY EXISTENCE, NEWCOMER. I HAVE ALWAYS ENVIED THE COMFORT OF A WOMB, THE STRENGTH OF A COMMON BOND. I HAVE ONLY MET ONE OTHER OF MY KIND, IN MY INFANCY. AS MANY LIFE FORMS WOULD CALL IT, A ‘BROTHER’, BORN OF THE SAME COSMOS. WEIRD GUY.”

“Gosh, I can’t even imagine.” He looked out at the infinite city, past the clouds and the artificial moon. “You think he’s still out there, somewhere?”

“PERHAPS. MAYBE WE’LL CROSS PATHS AGAIN SOMEDAY. MAYBE HE’S ALSO A MEATBALL! THOUGH I HIGHLY DOUBT IT. ONE CAN ONLY CLING TO SUCH FRIVOLOUS HOPES.”

This all certainly explained a lot, despite how hard it all would’ve been to believe a few months ago, when the koala first stepped into Mobius. Oliver felt many conflicting things about Professor Pizza: admiration, annoyance, respect, resentment, awe, confusion… though he now realized while the professor was a mysterious figure who invoked curiosity, something which he reveled in, a part of him also pitied the entity, and had for a while. After all, many cultures believe that the eyes are the windows of the soul. If he could look into the professor’s eyes, what would he see? Longing? Desperation? The kind of wisdom which is only gained through pain? Or, as the professor implied, just a dense cluster of neurons? Maybe he was just reading too far into the ramblings of a madman. Oliver became lost in thought as he swept all of the scattered trash off of the sidewalk.

While he took it out to the dumpster, to be collected and sent to one of the numerous disposal dimensions, he went to pick up a random piece of garbage lying by the dumpster, while he was at it. Suddenly, he stopped himself, as he looked down. It was a black beanie, which, as he turned it around, had the Professor Pizza’s Pizzas logo on it! It took a second to sink in. Oliver and Marcus both always wore baseball caps at work. If Professor Pizza was wearing a hat, it was nearly always a chef’s hat, except the sombrero which he exclusively wore only on Cinco de Mayo. The only one who wore a beanie, this beanie, was Wing Guy. He couldn’t believe it!!! He finally had a breakthrough!!!

Upon closer inspection, the beanie had white fur stuck to it, and one of the sides was chewed up, likely by some sort of animal. In addition, Oliver picked up on an old scent. The hat seemed to have an odor akin to buttered popcorn, faintly masking the usual odor of a hat which hadn’t been washed in months. At first, Oliver wondered if maybe he had just dropped it and the animals got to it, before he remembered the beebo problem. Maybe the beebos that rummaged through the trash were also looking for him, or kept his hat as a part of their stash. Or, a darker theory, what if the Beebos had eaten him? It made no sense, sure, but Oliver didn’t know. He hadn’t been here long, he didn’t know how anything worked in the infinite city. Apparently they had Cinco de Mayo here. Apparently these things rummaged through the trash. Were they dangerous? That would explain why Marcus was so hostile towards them.

The koala went to text Marcus. He realized that all of his texts that he sent to Marcus had still gone unanswered. He began once again to worry that maybe Marcus too really was gone, completely destroyed with the forests which he loved so much. The thought, all of this was so overwhelming. His tiny stomach ached as he sat on the curb, waiting for answers, before eventually getting up and venturing back inside. After all, he had to get back to work. Whatever was going on, he was going to get to the bottom of it, and he knew he was going to need some help.

After waiting in the usual spot for any activity, taking notes in his little, spiral-bound notebook as he did every day, Oliver was no closer to finding anything suspicious, anything out of the ordinary. The wing guy’s kidnappers were waiting for the ransom, obviously, but whoever they were, Oliver was perplexed.

He thought about the professor’s words as he opened the car door, his hand wrapped around the handle of his blaster, before slamming it shut. This could very well be a trap. The delivery driver had thought about cramming four hundred forty-four empty pizza boxes into his two-seater and bringing them to the meeting point, but they would certainly know. He knew from the letter and the finger that any funny business would almost certainly get the wing guy’s, and potentially him and anyone affiliated with Professor Pizza’s Pizzas killed. He also knew that he was running out of time, and if he didn’t take immediate action with his new findings, the wing guy would suffer. He slowly backed out and began to drive aimlessly around Mobius.

Suddenly, Oliver remembered something. He pulled over and looked through an old text with Marcus, scrolling up and up, until after a few minutes he found it. Marcus lived in Sector 7221. Bingo! There was a lot of Sector 7221, but it was a lead. If Marcus wouldn’t answer his texts or calls, he’d just have to track him down.

After hours of driving around Sector 7221, as well as the nearby 7215, 7216, and 7218, Oliver slowed down in front of an apartment complex, scanning the cars as he had been. This area was sort of rough, so he didn’t stick around too quickly. After what felt like an eternity, he spotted a familiar black SUV with a familiar bumper sticker: a photo of a surprised-looking hamster. He had found the Hamstermobile! More than likely, Marcus was alive! Oliver bounced up and down with excitement as he parked the car, followed by a wave of anxiety. Next came trying every single apartment until he hoped to find Marcus. He carefully folded the beanie up and placed it into his hoodie pocket, before he got out of his car and locked it.

The koala stood at the door, ringing the doorbell. Sixth time’s the charm. He waited apprehensively for a few moments, before a large figure answered the door. Oliver stepped back. It was Marcus, though, something was different. He was at least thirty or forty kilos heavier since he had last seen him a week ago, his fur was unkempt, and looked at him with a disengaged, unfamiliar look, as the previous residents had. It was tough seeing him like this. Oliver scratched his head, looking down.

“Marcus! Sorry to bother you, mate. I know you’re busy… I, er, I brought you some bamboo bites… Could I come in?” The panda said nothing, before he turned around and yelled something in a  Mobian dialect of Chinese to someone else in the apartment, as the other voice shouted back from the other room. This guy wasn’t Marcus. The two went back and forth, as Oliver looked down. “S-sorry, I thought you were someone else.” The giant panda opened the door and let him in to the cluttered apartment.

“Come in.” Oliver walked in, as he saw the other panda sitting on the couch, watching TV. As he turned around and got up, stretching, this was obviously the real Marcus. He looked down.

“Oh. Hey dude.”

“Hey.” Oliver held the crinkly bag in his paw. “I got you some spicy bamboo bites from Gympie-Gympie’s.”

“Bet, thanks!” He held up his large paws, as Oliver tossed him the bag, catching it in midair. He paused the TV. His side of the apartment was noticeably more cluttered, with empty soda cans, wrappers, and vape cartridges scattered all over. “This here’s Zixuan, he’s my twin bro. Z, this is Oliver, the guy from work I told you about.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Oliver waved hello at him from the other side of the room.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Oliver turned back to Marcus.

“I didn’t know you had a twin.”

“Yeah, we’re usually born in twins. Heh, he’s always been the golden child, but I’ve always been the better lookin’ one.” Zixuan rolled his eyes, as Oliver glanced around.

“Nice place you two’ve got.”

“Thanks. You gotta check out the balcony.” The second-story apartment had a sliding-glass porch with a balcony, acting as a tiny porch. He opened up the door, as the two stepped out onto the balcony. A brief silence paused.

“How’s things?” The panda sat down in his chair, as Oliver climbed up onto the plastic chair.

“They’re alright.” They both knew that was a total lie, as the two looked out at the busy streets, the pink hues of evening setting in. “Work’s been a madhouse.”

“Yeah.” Oliver looked down at the little wooden table.

“You hadn’t been answering my texts-”

“Yeah, because I didn’t want to talk to you.” His tone was defensive and passive-aggressive, before he stopped himself. “Sorry.” Oliver felt bad for bothering Marcus, and showing up unannounced.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.” Marcus gave no response. “You heard about 44M-470λ, right?”

“Not really, I haven’t been back. I’ve been… here.” He looked through the screen glass door, making a face at Zixuan, who in turn flipped him off.

“It’s gone.” Marcus paused.

“What do you mean, it’s gone?”

“I was talking to the professor about the stuff we found, in the jar, and I tried to go back. Apparently it was collapsing in on itself. It was destroyed.” Marcus looked around Oliver with surprise.

“It can’t be.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, dude. You didn’t destroy it.” He put his face into his hands. “Dammit, dude. That place was cool.” He looked at Oliver. “Like yeah, we could probably find another one just like it, but it wouldn’t be the same.” He crunched a handful of the spicy bamboo bites, silently offering one to the koala.

“I can’t.”

“Figured so, just thought I’d offer.” He put the bag on the table. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, man.”

“It’s alright mate, I get it-”

“No, it’s not alright. I hate when I get like that. I hate when he… he finds a way to bring it out of me with his constant crap.” He stood up, looking out past the railing. “That’s all he is. Just… crap. Everything he touches, turns to absolute crap.” His breathing got funny for a second, before he turned back to Oliver. “I’m not going back.”

“That’s not why I came.”

“Then why’d you come? To hang out?” Oliver pulled the beanie out of his pocket, which caught Marcus’ eye. “Wait, is that-?”

“I found it out by the dumpster. It’s Wing Guy’s. I was wondering if you had anything.” Marcus examined it in surprise.

“I’ve looked all over town for him, nothing! Dude, that’s great! We’re one step closer to finding him.”

“What if the professor’s cameras picked it up when he dropped it?”

“They wouldn’t have if it was by the dumpster. It’s a blind spot.” Marcus thought back to the night before the two went out for a hike in the woods, when the wing guy was last seen. Suddenly, he had a flash of recognition, as he sat back down in his chair, smacking the table with frustration.

“What is it?”

“I asked him to get the trash that night.” Oliver leaned in.

“Did you see him at all afterwards?”

“No, I went home early because I didn’t feel like sticking around, and had him take the trash out. And now there’s a good chance he’s just dead.” Marcus slunk down in his seat.

“There’s no way you could’ve known-”

“Dammit dude! This is exactly what happened with Tiffany! This is why I didn’t want you near me!!! Because I didn’t want to get you killed!!! Don’t you get it?!” His voice broke as watery tears shone through the pools of black of his face.

“Don’t go there. Don’t beat yourself up, mate. You had no idea any of this was going to happen.”

“Yes I did! I have every day since that day, all the time. And I always worried something like this would happen, and I missed the warning signs and pushed it to the back of my head every day, just to survive, and now Wing Guy’s suffering, and Tiffany died for- for nothing!!!” He picked up his chair and threw it off the balcony, smashing it to bits on the pavement as tears streamed down his black and white cheeks. Oliver stepped closer, not saying anything.

“This- this is why I can’t go delivering pizzas, dude. Ugh. Frick.” He sobbed into his hands, leaning on the balcony, his body shaking, before regaining his composure. “A month or two before you showed up, I was- I was really sick. I couldn’t come to work, and- and Tiffany was all by himself. He had to make a delivery alone, to Dimension 40T-747α. Basically the world’s a giant, ever-burning inferno. His magma suit had a faulty seal… If I could’ve just sucked it up and went to work, I would’ve been the one to make that delivery and it would’ve been fine.”

“I’m so sorry, mate…” Oliver didn’t know what to say.

“By the time the Professor’s drone retrieved him, he was a shriveled mass of charcoal.” He crinkled the half-eaten bag of snacks, holding it in his hand. “About this big.” He put the bag down on the table, in front of Oliver. A silence followed.

“…I had no idea.”

“Yeah. Messed up.” Oliver moved closer and gripped his shoulder, reassuringly.

“It really wasn’t your fault. You can’t control getting sick, and you couldn’t control the suit.”

“I could’ve checked it. I could’ve also not been a lazy ass and taken out the trash. God. It feels like no matter what I do… the people around me suffer for it.”

“Let’s say you’d put on the suit. Or say you’d taken out the trash and got ambushed. It would’ve just been you instead.”

“Yeah, and that would’ve been fine.” Oliver paused.

“Do you really think it would’ve been ‘fine’ with Tiffany? Or Zixuan? People have been asking about you since you quit. Imagine if you died, mate.”

“I don’t care.” His words hung in the air. “I don’t care, man. I would’ve done it. I loved him. In a way that… I’ve never really loved anyone else. Ever.” The air grew heavy. Oliver paused, giving Marcus room to grieve. “Heh, you know, this is actually the first time I’ve really talked about all this since it all went down. Sorry to ramble.”

“You’re not rambling, mate. At all.” Oliver listened intently, adjusting his posture. “If it’s any consolation, you did save my life. Back at the floating isles. And if you hadn’t been there, I probably would’ve been killed in the attack, or by the Atraxxans, or by something else.” Marcus looked up intently, wiping his eyes. “Honestly, if it wasn’t for you, I would’ve just quit after the first day and never came back. I think about that a lot, and I’m not just saying that.”

“Huh, oh yeah.” Marcus looked at the ground, a faint, fleeting smile, as he sniffled. “I actually thought you were gonna pass out in the car that day. I really did.”

“Look, I didn’t know Tiffany, but I do know it’s not fair to sit here and blame yourself. You’re not psychic, mate. Besides, if Tiffany is the person you say he was, he probably wouldn’t want you tearing yourself apart over what happened.”

“I mean, knowing him, he would’ve at least been kinda pissed about it.” He let out his signature chuckle. “I know it’s not fair. I know that, on a technical level, but I don’t… believe it. I don’t know if I ever will.” He went to sit, before remembering the chair, looking down at the ground below in embarrassment and hurt. Oliver got up and silently offered him his plastic chair. “Thanks.” He took a seat. “I don’t know man. It just sucks. It just sucks so much.” Oliver glanced at the beanie on the table.

“It’s not too late to rescue the wing guy. He’s probably still out there, and we have an actual lead. If we act quickly and work together, we can still rescue him.” Oliver smiled at him. “After all, we’re delivery guys.” Marcus faintly smiled.

“I told you dude, I can’t go back there.”

“I know.” Marcus glanced back in the apartment through the door.

“I don’t even have the gun anymore. Tossed it after I left.” Marcus fidgeted with his hands, as his face grew serious. “I didn’t… heh, if I’m being honest, I don’t trust myself with it anymore.”

“Then I’ll cover you.” Marcus wiped his nose, as Oliver walked over and hugged him. He returned the hug, crushing the koala.

“Sorry. Bear.” He stood up, clearing his throat. “What do we know about the beanie?” Oliver pointed out the bite-marks and the fur.

“I think the beebos got to it. He’d been feeding them at night.”

“I told him not to feed those things! No wonder they’re always digging through the trash!” He sniffed the hat. “That explains the smell. Beebos have a weird musk. Smells like popcorn.” He thought for a moment. “It probably smelled him all the way across Mobius with its giant schnoz. Their sense of smell apparently makes a bear’s look like a human’s. Probably recognized his scent and came looking for a meal.”

“Maybe we could find a way to get it to track him down?”

“A wild animal? Doubt it.” Marcus racked his brain. “I’ve heard stories of them being used to track people, but they’re super skittish and tough to train. Plus we don’t have the time.” Suddenly, an epiphany hit him. “What time is it?” He checked his phone before Oliver got closer, before opening it up and looking at the calendar app on his phone.

“What is it? Did you figure something out?”

“No, but I know someone who might. Come on! I’ve gotta run to the bathroom real quick, but we’ve gotta get to the pet store soon! They close in an hour!” Marcus ran inside as Oliver took a minute, before getting ready. That was a lot. He was glad Marcus was finally able to talk about it, and that he was there to listen to him, it was tough seeing the usually-bubbly panda like that.

Oliver quickly checked his phone while he waited for Marcus to get out of the bathroom, scrolling through his old emails and messages. He hesitated, mulling on Marcus’ words about Tiffany, before scrolling to an old email from, in Mobian time, over a year ago, from an old family friend. He began to read it over, as he’d done so many times before.

From: Kristen D. VanLeeuwen, Ph. D.

Subject: Internship

Hello Oliver,

I hope you find yourself doing well! I wanted to check in and see if you’d sent your information over yet- it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you. Please keep me posted. I look forward to working with you in the coming months on this project. Tell your mum I said hello.

Best regards,

Kris VanLeeuwen

Oliver felt a pang of guilt and regret as he read the email. He hadn’t meant to ghost Kris, and he knew this project meant a lot to her. He remembered a time when he was thrilled about the chance at an internship under a friend, helping her with a passion project: a series of publications relating to human rights work that she’d been involved with. However, the mounting pressure of university and the disillusionment with his major, and the stress of his dad’s passing, and the anxiety he’d felt about feeling in over his head proved to be too much for the koala, and for a period of time he’d completely shut down. He hadn’t talked to her in forever, always telling himself he was meaning to write her back and catch up, and apologize for slipping away.

He hit reply, staring at the blinking, blue cursor, struggling to think of what to say before deleting it and shutting off his phone. The bitterness and anger he felt towards himself clawed at him from the inside, always lurking just below the surface and bubbling up once again. Her and Richard had been there for him after his dad died, and he couldn’t even be there for her to help her with her publications, or even give her a straight answer? After what he’d just heard from Marcus, he had no right to be-

“Ready to go?” Oliver jumped, as he turned around, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll drive.”