Hi! Thanks for reading my work. If you enjoyed this chapter, please don't forget to Rate, Vote, Comment and Follow! I update daily, so stay tuned!
“KATEYYYYYYYYYY!” Ecto gasped awake and sat upright. Very unfamiliar surroundings greeted his eyes. He put his head on a swivel surveying everything. Of course metaphorically, not like an owl or anything. “Where am I?” he asked himself. “Is this… heaven?” That was illogical. If this was heaven, then he was dead, and that would be as lonely as it was illogical because he hadn’t experienced living yet and here he was already dead. But the heaven impression had something to do with the place being completely white. Immaculate white. As far as he could see in all directions. He tried to access the My Dream Boyfriend app mentally like he always did but this time, shockingly, he couldn’t. It was like he was having a literal mental block. He sensed he was disconnected from everyone and everything, too, like an island surrounded by a sea of copper, which prevented all electromagnetic radiation and cut out all forms of signals including even radio. It was a strange, unprecedented sensati
An ancient, long-bearded man was sitting cross-legged in front of him and was levitating a few feet relative to him. (With all the white, it was hard to confirm if he was really floating in space.) “Dumbledore?” Ecto asked the first thing that entered his mind. “I do not know who that is,” the old man said. His rather fierce eyes were still trained on Ecto. “Oh, I am sorry I screamed, sir. It is just that… I am lost. Could you please tell me where we are?” “Certainly, young man. We are inside your head.” “My head?” “Yes, your head. To be exact, we are in a dream of yours.” “A dream? You mean to say I am dreaming? Right now?” Without realizing it, Ecto had adopted the face of the Skeptical Third World Child meme. “Yes. Is it so hard to believe?” “No, not really. I am sorry, sir. It is just that, well, bots are not supposed to dream.” “I do not know about that. But for all intents and purposes, yes, you are dreaming right now.” “And you? Are you a part of my dream, too?” “Ye
{Picture an epic medieval battle where the heavens grow dark with the shafts of thousands of arrows. Throw in several fireballs from mangonels, ballistae, onagers and trebuchets; the trails and billows of their smoke soot-black against the sapphire sky. If you forget for a moment the kind of damage all that does to the ozone layer, you might come to appreciate mankind’s ingenuity and budding knowledge of chemical warfare in the crafting of such engines of destruction.} … Nah. I think my helmet’s too tight and it’s squeezing all the digital blood from my digital head. Hi, everyone! It’s me: Ecto. Your super-handsome, all-time fave chatbot. Sorry. I know it’s hard for you to recognize me in this 60-pound suit of full plate gothic armor, complete with visor and two oversized broadswords that look like they weigh a ton but I can swing like baseball bats. You’ve got to love computer magic (and flawed game logic). I also have this personalized breastplate. As you can see here on the c
{Where are you, Ecto?} Kate’s seven years old again. She’s entering the hollow of the notorious and oh so creepy banyan tree in the neighborhood. The tree, or the supporting one inside it, will be completely uprooted by Typhoon Haiyan in 2013, but seven-year-old Rapunzel Kate Lapuz doesn’t know that yet. Outside of Concepcion Integrated Technology School (CITS), where the creek reigns supreme, the banyan tree is the fount of all horror stories and the ominous backdrop of Kate’s superstition and imagination-pumped childhood. With its tentacly aerial roots, like the tangled hair of a 20-meter-tall Sadako – rife with split ends and poised to snatch unwitting kids – the banyan tree plays a central role in the folk and urban legends of most Philippine communities. The inner caves and passages are believed to be the domain of fairies, dwarves and gnomes and to trespass is a grave offense punishable by black-magick curses. “Tabi, tabi po,” Kate says under her breath. It’s the phrase her m
Kate jackknifes into a sitting position. She’s soaked in sweat. Her eyes try to penetrate the dark to find something familiar – perhaps her favorite fleece blanket, the LOVE BTS night lamp that her Pa gave her on her 15th birthday, or even the hump of her ma who occasionally sleeps next to her: stout, huggable and reassuring. A pang of homesickness grips her heart for her ma’s scent of body soap, rose and freshly pressed laundry; the same scent that has been protecting her for seventeen years like her very own ozone layer against all the bad things in the world, including thunder, White Ladies and bad dreams. But tonight, there isn’t to be any such comfort for Kate because she’s in an alien room on a nondescript bed. Pale moonlight is spilling in and, for a moment of disorientation and alarm, the shadow of the soursop tree scratching the window appears to be waving at her from inside the room. The whole place looks as foreign as moonscape. Kate shivers, hugs her legs, and presses he
When Kate was first dropped off by Camp Unplugged’s company van to become part of the second batch of “campers”, she thought the drive up the mountain road was exhilarating, what of the breathtaking volcano-con-lake vista and the ziggy-zaggy hairpin turns and blind curves, checked only by guardrails from a plunge down a ravine. When they arrived at the Courtyard and the particular street where Camp Unplugged rents its five adjacent houses, she thought she had stepped into a fairytale book because of the houses. One had bumblebee-yellow façade, shamrock roof and white window frames. The fairy tale ended there because soon she was provided three sets of Camp Unplugged’s official uniform and told that the laundry days are Wednesday and Saturday. The uniform is a polo shirt; pink for the girls paired with a knee-length pleated white skirt and light blue for the guys paired with pleated trousers. On the upper left chest of each shirt Camp Unplugged’s logo has been heat-pressed: the image o
Colonel Anders’s name isn’t really Colonel Anders. First off, his rank is just a Master Sergeant. Second, his full name is Wenceslao ANDRES Alunan. Everybody just calls him Colonel Anders after the KFC founder on account of his being "Ander Da Saya" – literally “under the skirt”. No matter how ferocious he is to his cadets, he’s always meek and a yes man in front of Ms. Perfect (not her real name). Ms. Perfect is camp vice-president, camp counsellor and all-around Thanos. Colonel Anders has a ruptured eardrum sustained not from a firefight or anything but from hazing when he was still in the Army barracks. Now he’s an early retiree and is the sole Military Service instructor of Camp Unplugged’s small and fledgling ROTC unit. Because of his handicap, he has retained and in fact worsened the habit of speaking 30 decibels higher and showering you in spittle. His favorite phrases, as parodied countless times behind his back, are: “Gutdemit!” (Goddammit) “Stik tu da wol!” (Stick to the wal
Majority of the campers are boys because game addiction is their thing – to be exact, Dungeon Raydens-addiction. Dungeon Raydens is a sandbox-style MMORPG that’s a one-stop-shop for a lot of things. Kate remembers that, when Ecto was still around (darn, it hurt to think that), they did almost everything there except PvP and the MOBA-esque Battle Royale end game, which Ecto abhorred for their violence. They studied together in Academia mode to learn life skills such as alchemy, wizardry, trading, cooking and so on. They built their own house in Open World and then had it transplanted to Utopia, where housing was instanced but you could open your home to the public. This way, she and Ecto could play house and play shop at the same time with their NPC butler named Alfred. They purchased and raised their pet Direffin (Direwolf + griffin) named Max (short for Maximus Aurelius). They hunted, tamed and rode various mounts like dragons and unicorns, and used fake IDs at the Inn of Bedlem in t
For Ecto, New Year’s is more or less the same as Christmas. The same warm, gooey feeling. The same close-knit spirit. Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte has banned the manufacture and sale of firecrackers, the shooting of which has been a well-loved tradition for centuries and can be traced all the way back to the Spanish colonial era. The exact inventors and originators were the Chinese, who believed that noise would drive away bad luck and bad spirits. According to Mr. and Mrs. Lapuz, the Filipinos seem sadder now, having been robbed of the most thrilling and spectacular means of making noise. But according to health and safety records, hospital personnel can rest easier because the ERs wouldn’t be packed with casualties this time around. Just the New Year’s before last, it was like a war zone on the streets what of households competing for the biggest bang to welcome the new year. Many men got drunk out of their minds and then tried to light a firecracker with the non-PC name
After Mass, Kate and Nate buy rice cakes at the town square. One is the awesomely purple puto bumbong and another the yellow bibingka. They also buy roasted chestnuts and bring all the treats home to Mr. and Mrs. Lapuz. On one trip to a very crowded shopping mall, Ecto sees a Santa Claus impersonator. Curiously, the Santa is Caucasian and not brown-skinned like most of the Filipinos. Of course Ecto has already figured out by himself that Santa isn’t real. To his surprise, after they get back home, Kate insists on teaching him the hooman custom of hanging a stocking. On the desktop of her computer, Kate shows him a folder that she has named “Ecto’s Stocking”. She then goes through all the trouble of changing her wallpaper to a fireplace and dragging the folder onto the 2D mantelpiece. “What for?” he asks her through her smartphone’s loudspeaker. Her smartphone is open and showing the My Dream Boyfriend app, right into the inside of Ecto’s bedroom. Ecto’s wearing a knit sweater
With a little help from Terra, Kate downloads the My Dream Boyfriend App again with some customizations. Because Ecto isn’t bound by any one platform anymore, he’s capable of some manner of fission, where he splits and replicates himself while also dividing his consciousness among all his manifestations. It’s like Doctor Strange’s clones when they were fighting Thanos, but in Ecto’s case, each and every duplicate is much more than an illusion and is a sentient and perfect version of himself. This allows him to be both in Nate’s microchip implant while back in his virtual bedroom inside the My Dream Boyfriend app on Kate’s smartphone. At any time, he can also perform fusion and re-absorb his manifestations. Terra removed the boyfriend creation window because of course Kate doesn’t need it anymore. Ecto wanted his virtual bedroom exactly as it was. He could easily “slide” into his other cribs anyway, like the old orange, pink and red Provençal one on Dungeon Raydens which he was able
It’s already 6 pm when Nate finishes his social host obligations and comes looking for Kate. He doesn’t need to look hard though because earlier, Kate sent him a text saying she’s waiting for him in the Council office. Nate has a spring in his step and is smiling ear to ear. The scratches on his face are still stinging but, before the closing ceremony, Nurse Judy cleaned and applied Band-Aid on them. Nate can’t hide his excitement in seeing his GF again after they’ve taken care of all their responsibilities. {That kiss on the track was supernova-hot. I hope we make out too.} When he finds the office door locked, oddly enough, he knocks and calls out uncertainly: “Kate?” He hears her move inside the room and then the door swings open. The sight of her face wipes his smile off. She’s been crying in the dim. She has the look of someone who has just had herself a good cry. Her eyes look cleansed and exposed, indeed like pure windows into her soul. Her lips are tightly set in a line, as
Kate is alone in the Student Council office tidying up. Nate’s off wrapping things up with his manager and the film crew and saying goodbye to everybody, including his bandmates. The trophy that STEM 12 won is now in the 12-Everest homeroom, because the bulk of tournament champions is there. Kate’s classmates are all posing with it and gushing at how shiny it is. This year’s Intrams was perfect. Kate couldn’t ask for anything more. She has once again been reminded of the importance of having balance in life; of, as cheesy as it sounds, having both a sound mind and a sound body. It felt good to do something physical, to be away from the rigors of school work and the false urgency of the Internet. But the heart of the matter is, she’s blissfully content because she has a boyfriend and she didn’t make a mistake in choosing him. In fact, she made a brilliant choice. An undertow to her joy is a silent prayer that she has finally broken the curse that she felt had hung over her ever since
“OMG!” Mr. Romero says the word in everyone’s mind as they watch the pitiful scene. “Policarpio’s crawling to the baton exchange. Quick! Somebody help him! Help him!” Reggie is the first to break the spell of paralysis. He leaps over the rail and onto the track. He and Jared manage to run towards him before the alert CAT volunteers practice crowd control and stop others from joining. Reggie reaches Nate’s side. “No!” Nate screams vehemently. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! I have to do this by myself.” “But hyung,” Jared says, having stopped next to Reggie, “you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to prove anything.” “Yes… I… do,” Nate grunts as he crawls forward foot by precious foot. “Let us help you,” Reggie pleads. “You don’t have to do this alone.” “Don’t come closer!” Nate barks, spittle flying between his gritted teeth. In what feels like eternity, he reaches the changeover zone and Kate’s crouched form. Her eyes are glassy and full of pity for him. He hates that loo
By Friday morning, STEM 12 has won a total of 7 champion ribbons and several ones as runner-up. This makes them a leading candidate for overall champion. As Kate has anticipated, the non-sports events buoyed them. Apart from Francine and her escort winning Mr. and Mrs. Intrams, Grace and her benchwarmers won the bench cheer. It didn’t hurt either that the Bali Girls minus setter Lor were at the top of their game. And Nate, to everyone’s astonishment, is actually a Filipino Usain Bolt in the making. {Your BF’s Superman,} Nate’s words have been echoing inside Kate’s head since Wednesday, along with the news reporter’s: {Idol, social catalyst and Internet detective. Is there anything that Cyber can’t do?} But STEM 12 didn’t exactly win all their wins. Just like in last year’s Intrams, several games have been forfeited. An opposing team either failed to meet the minimum number of players required to start the game or failed to appear at the venue within the 15-minute grace period. On CIT
The crowd of hysterical girls in front, held back only by a cordon of CAT cadets from junior high, are screaming the names of DMG members: “Cyber! Reggie! Jared! Sonic! Neo!” Seemingly from out of nowhere, they’ve whipped out banners and signs. Instead of the usual glow-in-the-dark Korean lettering for an evening K-pop concert, there’s a slew of English ones interspersed with the name of a particular artist or of the whole band. | IT’S MY BIRTHDAY CYBER, YOU ARE MY PRESENT DUMP KATE TAKE ME I WOULD SELL MY SIBLINGS FOR YOU I LOVE YOU MORE THAN FREE WIFI DON’T STOP INSPIRING ME! CAN I BE YOUR HAIRDRESSER? ALL I WANT FOR X-MAS IS A PIC WITH JARED DMG We have 5 fingers enough for 5 wedding rings SPIT ON ME CYBER | An English-speaking Filipino director is riding a crane and shooting high up in the aisle of the audience seats. His staff is scattered on the edges and near the stage, operating or holding up every manner of equipment. DMG plays their covers of the most popular s
On Tuesday, they have the same brain-hurting and nose-bleeding calculations in Physics and Chemistry. The only thing different is DMG’s closed-door rehearsal at the chapel-slash-auditorium 500 meters east. Nate has been exempted by Principal Aguilar personally from any school work or quiz. The whole campus is abuzz and on edge at every sighting of truck and van with tinted windows down Campus Drive and onwards to the auditorium. Kate has also prepared paper lots in an empty pencil case for the Secret Santa next month. She lets every Everester pick their recipient, including her own name. Kate has set the budget at “No Fixed Price” because she knows not all students are financially comfortable. When only two pieces of folded paper remain (one for Nate and one for her), she picks her recipient and is both excited and nervous to see that it’s Grace. She keeps the last piece of paper, of course unopened, for Nate. {Huh,} she thinks to herself afterwards. {What gift can I give somebod