Now she was troubled by something entirely different.
“Does night ever come here?” the girl glanced at the clock on her phone, then at the window, through which midday light was still pouring in.
“I don’t know. Why do you need night?” he asked.
“Well… you’re right,” she finally nodded. “I’m not tired at all, so let it be an eternal day!”
“Maybe they ran out of old gods to build a realistic solar system,” Noah speculated. “Or maybe the day here lasts half a year.”
“Why couldn’t they just use a real sun, with its whole system?”
“I don’t know. Ronan suggested taking questions like that to the Architects’ Guild. Maybe we really should.”
“A new quest!” she perked up, sitting much straighter. “At the same time, we’ll find out where to get more of those green drinks! And maybe we’ll meet a twelve-year-old or two on our way!”
Noah blinked, noticing the inscription on the pillow Beata was still clutching to her chest.
Nostalgia.
“Most people are busy with their nostalgias. You must have noticed if you visited your neighbors. Few people open their doors, right?” Ronan’s words resurfaced in Noah’s mind.
And Audrie Deveraux. She, too, had mentioned something about access to public dreams.
Public dreams. A pillow. Nostalgia…
“Why are you staring like that?” Beata shifted uncomfortably.
“These pillows…” Noah reached behind himself, searching for the second one. “I have exactly the same ones in my apartment.”
“So what?”
“Why would they add pillows if we don’t need sleep at all?” He kneaded the one he’d grabbed, searching for a label or any kind of information. “And all of them have the same word on them. And I’m pretty sure I’ve heard people mention ‘nostalgia’ as if it weren’t just a word, but a place—or something like that…”
Beata eyed her pillow suspiciously, still unwilling to let it go.
“You think this isn’t just a pillow, but some kind of device?”
“In Regia, they save every resource. They wouldn’t waste them on objects we might never use. Unless…”
Noah dropped the pillow onto the carpet, then stretched out full-length on the floor, resting his head on it.
“If anything strange happens to me, call Alicia,” he warned Beata. “But not earlier than five minutes.”
* * *
At first, nothing strange happened. Noah stared at the ceiling, feeling the softness of the pillow and carpet beneath him. Counting seconds and wondering whether he’d need to fall asleep—like back then, in the Dream Sphere.
He closed his eyes and tried to relax.
Counted to ten.
Nothing.
Then he tried silently speaking the name. Nostalgia.
“Hey!” he heard Beata gasp faintly.
A moment later, Noah no longer felt his body. He saw an immeasurable white space and a program menu in the center of his vision:
- Register a new user
- Protocols
- Exit
So he hadn’t been wrong. It really was a device. Or a hidden doorway into yet another layer of Regia. One Everest and Alicia had chosen not to mention when briefing them. Maybe they’d left this secret as a little surprise?..
Noah hesitated for a few seconds, then selected Exit.
“Are you okay?” Beata asked anxiously. She was now kneeling on the floor, barely a step away. “You—you shrank into a point and disappeared into the pillow!”
“Really?” Noah blinked in surprise. “Huh. Well, it’s fine. I’m okay. Listen—put your pillow on the floor and lie down as I did. It’ll be better if we explore Nostalgia together.”
“You saw something?”
“Not yet. But I have a rough idea of what it is. It should be interesting.”
Beata hesitated, but seeing Noah’s enthusiasm, she quickly made up her mind.
“When you’re comfortable, close your eyes and call Nostalgia in your thoughts,” Noah instructed. “If you’ve ever played a video game, you’ll know what to do next.”
* * *
Returning to the Nostalgia menu, he selected the first option. It unfolded into a far more detailed interface, familiar from countless video games and complete with his own image.
Name: Noah
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Title: —
Age: 77
Gender: male
- Edit data
- Edit appearance
- Begin journey
Seeing the listed age, Noah would have frowned—if he’d had eyebrows or a forehead to frown with.
Maybe the program somehow added IP count to his age…?
Letting out a mental sigh, he chose Edit data and reduced the number to the correct twenty-six.
Noah decided not to touch Edit appearance for now. His old appearance suited him just fine. And if it didn’t suit someone else—that wasn’t his problem.
He decisively pressed Begin journey.
Whatever kind of computer was built into the pillow, it wasted no time processing data. A single blink, and the surroundings flared into brilliance, drowning Noah in color and street noise.
He found himself standing in the middle of a wide stone-paved city square, surrounded by crowds of all kinds of people. People dressed in costumes as varied as any theater designer could imagine. From billowing skirts and ridiculous curled shoes to grim-looking armor that smoothly covered even the most indecent parts of the body.
Stunned by the sheer number of people, Noah slowly looked around, afraid to move. He was soon shoved roughly.
“Hey! Man, is this your first time here? Read the sign!”
“What?” Noah stared at a middle-aged woman dressed like a proper witch, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. She gave him a critical once-over, then softened.
“So you really are new.”
She grabbed Noah by the arm, dragging him away from the center of the square.
“Watch where you’re standing. It clearly says not to block space for new arrivals—unless you’re deliberately looking for trouble.”
As he was pulled along, Noah managed to glance down. White arrows were painted on the stones, marked:
Attention! Leave the arrival zone immediately!
“This area’s meant for newcomers,” the witch explained. “Old-timers like me usually continue from wherever we left off last time. Unless that last place turns out as shitty as mine—ha ha!”
“Is this… some kind of game?” Noah looked around at the medieval cityscape, deeply stunned.
“If it’s a game, then it’s a very serious one,” the woman elbowed him. “Welcome to Nostalgia, kid. For some, it’s a game. For others, a very serious reality. Look, I’ve got places to be, no time to play guide. Just make sure you don’t starve to death!”
Laughing at her own joke, the witch spun on her heel and soon vanished into the crowd.
Left alone, Noah first made sure he wouldn’t get in anyone’s way again. Then he looked for Beata. If the witch hadn’t lied, the girl should appear here as well.
Once the initial shock settled, Noah began noticing other strange stuff. First, his body felt heavier and a bit clumsier—as if it had gained real mass.
Second, he felt a faint hunger. Unexpected, slightly unpleasant, and almost forgotten feeling.
So was the sensation of temperature. This medieval city radiated midday heat from every stone. Soon, Noah felt sweat streaming down his forehead—unpleasant, yet making him feel more alive than before.
He was finally beginning to understand why this place was called Nostalgia. And why Venice had felt so abandoned. Most of Regia’s inhabitants were gathered here, experiencing hunger, heat, and other long-forgotten sensations—feeling as alive as they had before death.
“So here you are!” someone grabbed Noah by the arm. “I thought you wandered off without me!”
He blinked in surprise. Standing before him was an almost unfamiliar young woman. Almost—because her eyes and hair resembled Beata’s, and her facial features were kind of similar… but she looked at least ten years older. And much, much angrier.
“Beata?..”
“Don’t you dare run off alone, okay?” the older version of Beata scolded him, clinging to his arm. “There are so many people here! And they all look like they escaped from a circus or a mad house…”
Why change your appearance if you still act like a child? Noah wondered silently.
But he didn’t dare say it aloud. A girl with eighteen IP would probably whoop his ass without breaking a sweat.
* * *
“What kind of place is this?” Beata muttered, watching the crowds flooding the streets—more people than on any street in Venice.
She and Noah had retreated to an outdoor café. The café occupied a two-story stone building with unusually tall foundations, so even the first floor had its own balcony hovering above the street.
“Obviously, Nostalgia,” Noah replied. “I’m guessing it’s another layer of Regia. With extra rules that let us feel hunger, heat, and who knows what else. Maybe even bleed to death.”
A waitress approached, wearing a wide apron and an even wider neckline—something Noah noticed without trying. It seemed this place had somehow restored his hormonal balance.
“You two are definitely newcomers,” the woman planted her hands on her hips, studying them with a crooked smile. “I’m guessing you don’t have money either.”
“Wow. Money finally exists?” Noah raised an eyebrow.
The woman laughed.
“Here, in Nostalgia? Of course. Along with all the other hardships of life, so it wouldn’t feel like a fairy tale. You two hungry?”
“And broke,” Noah reminded her. “And lacking some important information about this place.”
“I can only help with food, as a first-time courtesy. Information you’ll get at the Mercenaries’ Guild, across the arrival square. They’ll also set you up with the worst possible jobs for pennies. And if you’re too lazy to work or suffer real life’s pains, you can always go back to Regia to watch TV or explore the Flow itself.”
“Brutal,” Noah smiled. “And thank you.”
“Call me Cleopatra,” the waitress thrust out her chest proudly. “You kids look serious enough. I’ll bring you something to eat, but don’t expect more kindness in this tavern. And if I see you begging on the street, I’ll find someone to beat you up. Understood?”
“No begging. Got it,” Noah nodded.
“I like you. And you…” Cleopatra glanced at Beata. “You look like someone who spent an hour adjusting her appearance.”
“O-only ten minutes!” Beata protested indignantly. But the waitress was already walking away, ignoring her.
“Why did she say that? Is there something wrong with my face?”
“Everything’s fine with your face,” Noah said. “She probably noticed that your behavior doesn’t match your appearance.”
“What did I do?”
“That’s hard to explain,” he said. “But people probably feel that you’re a twelve-year-old trying to act much older. Something like that.”
“Wonderful,” Beata grumbled. “Why did I even bother?”
“So you’d feel superior to other twelve-year-olds?” Noah guessed.
At his words, the girl froze, staring at him in horror.
“Oh no—what have I done?” she gasped. “My future friends…”
And all the men who’ll be drawn to her current appearance, Noah thought. Those will be an even bigger problem.
“Want to go back and try again?” he offered.