An hour of rowing later, they arrived at the Stationery Village. The sun was rising, and the whole island was covered in cyberpunk colors: the sky was muted violet, the air was tinted in purple, and in front of every house was a glowing lantern in neon pink.
“So cool. So trendy. So creative.” S.K. couldn’t stop turning his head in 360 degree, literally, his head could make a full rotation like that of a barbie doll. It had spooked the gang at first, but they gradually got used to it. After all, he was an alien, so he should have some weird characteristics.
“Meh.” Lyndzee shook her head. She was the only one not amazed by the beauty of the village. “It’s trendy, yes, but this is a small village. Purple and pink fit better in a high-tech, low-life city. Y’all need to update your aesthetic rulebook, OK?”
S.K. scratched his head, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t mind her, Scraankral. We should all appreciate the creativity poured into this world building,” Wise Mentor said.
“My home planet is also very creative,” S.K. said, raising his chin proudly. “We have lava falling from the sky, seven purple moons and three ruby red suns.”
“Sure, sure. You are a creative bunch. That’s why you look like humans, but with twelve-pack abs.” Queen rolled her eyes.
“As a number enthusiast, I can confirm that twelve is indeed larger than six, so his abs are cool, and his alien identity is legit,” Lyndzee said.
“Fuck.” Viper added his valuable insight to the conversation. Mr. Mentor had said that Viper’s constant curses added the maturity to their ambience that signaled to everyone—this guy was a badass, and this world was a hellhole.
John listened attentively to everyone, trying to come up with a witty or informative remark, but in the end, he always came short. He felt sad about it, but Mr. Mentor had been incredibly supportive. He had told John that the Chosen One’s value did not lie in his strength, or intelligence, or cleverness, or communication skill, or assertiveness, or a sense of humor, or leadership, or discipline, or determination, or hard work, or creativity—none of which John possessed.
“The Chosen One’s value,” Mr. Mentor had said, “lies in his or her or their ability to realize his or her or their final form through the power of friendship and kindness.”
After that conversation, John had been feeling better about himself.
He glanced towards Merewif. The hot nice mermaid was looking at S.K., specifically the alien’s twelve-pack. John wondered if his final form would grant him thirteen-pack abs, or any number larger than twelve.
“Are you alright, Merewif? Do you need help?” John asked. Merewif didn’t have legs, but the Stationery Village was still an island, so she had to move around by flip-flopping. She was sweating and looked like she was going to pass out the next moment.
“Thanks, John, but I’m fine. All of us are used to this.” Merewif smiled. Her eyes shone bright like diamonds, or moissanite, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway.
John was going to ask her ‘what do you mean all of us?’, but suddenly, a group of four sirens ran towards Merewif. Their top halves were these of salmon, tuna, shark, and puffer fish, and their bottom halves were like humans. They stopped a few steps from Merewif, then pointed their fingers at her.
“You useless bunch of mermaids.” They laughed uncontrollably. “You are such a liability you deserve to be treated as sub-fish. How much tax money have we wasted on useless cooking tools just because you cannot eat raw fish? And what’s up with the flip-flopping? Move faster and keep up with the rest of us, please. Tomorrow, when the villagers vote to kick you out, we’ll finally be free.”
Oh, that explains everything. Merewif’s life was so relatable to John that he almost teared up on the spot. They both suffered from discrimination and bullying for no fault of their own. These very evil, very bad people often came out of nowhere just to punch John in the stomach, or dropkick him in the face, as if their life purpose was to make him miserable. Merewif had the same fate—she could not have chosen to be born with the bottom half of a fish, not that there was anything wrong with having the bottom half of a fish, or the top half of a fish, or any body parts of any animals, for that matter.
“Wow, that’s some random bullshit if I’ve ever heard one.” Lyndzee yawned. Got it: this place has class struggle, but the retarded type.
Queen nodded. She pulled out her Mega Super Secret Weapon—a rifle—and pointed at them. “Yes. Fish parts and human parts are equally attractive and capable. Take back what you just said, or be obliterated.”
The mean sirens did not stop. One of them took out a small horn and started honking at Merewif, while the rest of them mimicked her flip-flopping movement and laughed at her evilly.
BANG! Queen shot at one of them, slightly scratching his left fin. He screamed in terror and passed out, while the rest stopped laughing. They looked at Queen, terrified for their lives. Then, they ran away.
“Thank… thank you. I owe you my life,” Merewif said.
John stood next to them, trying and failing again to make an impression.
“We’re looking for Miss Stationery Enthusiast. Do you know where she is?” Queen asked.
“Of course. Ms. Stationery Enthusiast is one of the kind sirens here. We call her Miss Sten, because this name has only one syllable, and names with only one syllable is shorter to say. Her house is over there,” Merewif said, pointing at a field of colorful tulips. In the middle of the field was a rustic farmhouse so old the gang was surprised it hadn’t collapsed yet.
Although the farmhouse was near to where the gang was, it took them a whopping two hours to arrive, as they had to slow down to wait for Merewif’s flip-flopping way of moving around.
“I’m really sorry. The sirens are right. I really am a burden to the village,” Merewif said.
“Don’t listen to them. You are flawless, Merewif,” John said.
“No. I am useless. I can’t even walk.” Merewif was almost in tears.
“Walking isn’t important nowadays. We have wheelchair. What’s important is your soul, and you are so nice,” John said.
“No. I—”
“Shut the fuck up, you two.” Viper interrupted them. Only then did John realize Viper was glaring at them with his very scary, very deadly eyes. “Go somewhere else to weep, for fuck’s sake.”
“Agree.” Lyndzee rolled her eyes. Then, she walked up and knocked on the door.
An old siren opened the door. Her top half was that of a shark, making her look stupid. Her bottom half was wrapped in a thin blanket, or maybe it was a very big scarf. Either way, it was certainly a creative piece of garment.
“Merewif, who are these people?” The old woman asked.
“Miss Sten, these are random people I met an hour ago. They asked for your address, so I brought them here,” Merewif said.
The old woman opened the door and smiled brightly. “I see. I’m sure they’re nice people. Come on in.”
Inside the farmhouse, one buffalo, two chicken, and three ducks were running around. In the kitchen, a large pot was bubbling. The space looked warm and friendly, so the gang knew that Ms. Sten must be a nice grandma.
“I just finished cooking lunch. Here, have some, everyone!” Ms. Sten put a bubbling pot on the table. “Fish hotpot, very delicious.”
“I’m sorry?” S.K. thought he must have misheard. “What hotpot again?”
“Fish hotpot: tuna and salmon. I also added some seafood. Are you allergic to seafood? Here, I don’t accommodate allergies,” Ms. Sten said.
S.K. glared at the old lady’s head. The earthlings are weird. In the end, he shook his head. He should enrich his knowledge about earthly creatures after this quest.
The old lady poured everyone a bowl of soup, and gave Merewif the largest bowl. “Eat more, Merewif. You’re too slim. And everyone, too.”
“Thanks, Ms. Sten. But we’re on a mission,” Queen said. She wanted to complete the quest as soon as possible, so she could go back to her world. She still had three military missions, six cybersecurity projects, nine medicine research, and eleven clinical trials to manage in that month alone.
“What mission?” Ms. Sten smiled, her shark mouth curled upwards and made her look spooky. “How can I help?”
“Ms. Sten, I am Wise Mentor. Don’t you remember me?”
“You are Wise Mentor?” Ms. Sten’s mouth drooled. She gazed at Wise Mentor. After what seemed like forever, she finally spoke again. “You look so old, how do I know?”
“Yes, it’s me. I’m here for a magical object. Ms. Sten, do you know where the Magical Pen is?” Wise Mentor asked.
As soon as the old lady heard the question, her smile disappeared.
“It’s gone. I destroyed it,” she said, her eyes moving left and right constantly and not looking straight at them. Her fins waved vigorously, and her mouth curled downwards. The gang was not sure what this fish body language meant. ‘Show, don’t tell’ had failed them, and they desperately needed a blatant adjective to understand Ms. Sten’s emotions.
“You’re lying,” Wise Mentor said. His voice was adamant. “You’ve forgotten one thing: I understand fish’s body language.”
“Damn it,” the old lady sighed. She glanced towards everyone, and her gaze finally locked on John Doe. “My honor to finally meet you, Chosen One.”
