In the other room, daylight spilled freely through an unobstructed window. More empty shelves, but among them, Noah spotted a built-in flat TV screen. Against the opposite wall lounged a broad sofa, with two pillows casually tossed on it — both bearing the stylish inscription "Nostalgia". A small coffee table stood in front of it. Next to the sofa stood a similarly small, almost symbolic refrigerator with a glass door. Seeing the latter, Noah raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised.
His apartment had no toilet. No kitchen. Not even a bath, which struck him as a bit odd. A long soak would still count as a balm for the soul, even if it offered no practical benefit. Unless water here was far more expensive than on Earth.
He approached the window and looked down into the alley. Only a few passersby wandered lazily about their business, in no hurry whatsoever.
A handful of passersby in a city housing several hundred million inhabitants…
Noah still struggled to comprehend what all the others were doing. Traveling across the Milky Way? Fighting wars?
His phone rang. Beata.
“Did you notice something wrong with the internal space of this building?” she asked without preamble the moment she heard his voice. “Is it just me, or is there way too much room on the seventh floor?”
“No, it’s the same here,” Noah muttered, checking the contents of the fridge. Inside were four green cans with an unfamiliar logo — probably placed there so the apartment wouldn’t feel completely barren. “Already looked through your two rooms?”
“Nothing to look at. Lots of empty shelves, something green in the fridge. Even the windows don’t open. Luckily, the TV works… wow, seventy-two channels!”
Noah glanced around for a remote. No sign of it anywhere.
"Listen, do you have a bathtub by any chance?" he asked hopefully.
“No. Why would you need one? Just think you’re clean. Works for me.”
“That’s not the point,” Noah sighed, lifting the sofa pillows one by one. “It’s an old habit. A hot bath at least once a week. I managed to die right before my last chance… hey, where did you find your TV remote?”
“I turned it on with my phone. Almost everything here is phone-controlled, if you haven’t noticed. I just can’t find a laptop. Either laptops aren’t a thing here, or they just haven’t given us any yet.”
Noah pulled the phone away from his ear. Checking the apps, he did indeed find a TV icon.
“Hm… alright,” Beata murmured on the other end. “At least the TV lets you browse the net — that solves half the problem. So, what’s on your floor? Two rooms as well?”
“Two rooms, lots of shelves, a fridge with green cans,” Noah listed, a bit distracted. “And the hallways are completely empty. Not even any background noise you’d normally hear in an apartment building. Feels like the neighboring flats are absolutely deserted.”
“Yeah… now that you mention it… Maybe they invented perfect sound insulation here,” Beata guessed. “Hey, check your TV menu! Some interesting stuff there — especially in the ‘My Environment’ section.”
“It’d be easier if we ended the call.”
“What, did you crawl out of a cave? Don’t tell me you’re holding the phone to your ear! Move the call window to the corner. Open any other app. You’ll still hear me just fine.”
Hearing the mocking tone, Noah bristled despite himself. Kids…
Still, she was right. Shrinking the call window, Noah turned on the TV. The screen split into two menus. One for television, the internet, and other media. The other — something much stranger. His own face stared back at him. And it was an image created after death. Perhaps somewhere in the depths of the Dream Sphere.
On the other hand, it was a very flattering image. Noah found he actually liked it.
Below the picture, his ID was listed in small text: NoahKickedTheBucket. Then his full name. A link to manage personal information.
Below that were several bright options:
My Home
My Environment
Contacts
Remembering Beata’s words, he tapped the corresponding menu. The TV flickered and displayed a detailed isometric map of the city. Venice. A three-dimensional marker blinked in the corner, then shot toward the southern part of the city. The view zoomed in until it reached a seven-story building.
You are here.
So much for exploring on foot, Noah sighed bitterly.
A small window unfolded:
City: Venice
District: Raven Hill
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Address: 14 Irony Ave. (Bruno Tower)
And that wasn’t all. The program even allowed him to tap on the building. A full floor plan unfolded, showing every apartment number. With a growing sense of unease, Noah found the fourth floor and tapped 419. Zoomed in closer.
His name and a tiny photo lit up beneath the number.
Perfect. All his personal info — publicly available on the Regia network.
“Oh wow, looks like all the nearby apartments are occupied,” Beata murmured. “I have four neighbors… no — five. That one has a couple living in it…”
“Seriously?” Noah frowned.
He slid the view toward his neighboring apartment. Sure enough, under 418, a single name appeared — Ferhana. Unusual, impossible to place. No photo. No additional data. Noah exhaled with relief. At least minimal privacy existed. Otherwise, he really would’ve followed Everest’s advice and found himself a tree hollow…
“Alright, ending the call,” Beata announced. “I’m off to meet my neighbor — her name sounds kind of French. I’ll call later, ’kay? Bye!”
And she hung up without waiting for him to respond.
* * *
After exploring further, Noah discovered that out of the five nearest apartments, four were occupied — each by a single resident. The couple Beata mentioned seemed to be an exception to the rule.
He was just about to step into the hall and knock on the mysterious Ferhana’s door when his phone buzzed with a new message:
Subject: Welcome!
Message:
I see you passed the DS test, so you don’t need our help anymore :-)
If you’d like to meet and get answers to some old questions, hop over to 004-0017-00244. At reception, say you were invited by the Sages of Ages.
P.S. You have fans here. Waiting for you.
Noah stared at the message again and again in disbelief. Fresh Potato? The same Fresh Potato who commented under every one of his videos?
He ran through every Dream Sphere event in his mind, each comment, each hint. With the extra 15 IP, it was child’s play.
“You were all pretending, you bastards…” Noah muttered. “Pretending — even though you knew what would happen if I failed the test.”
He would’ve been sent to where the Flow ended. Better than being liquefied into raw material for this world, sure. But existence beat all other alternatives without competition.
Suddenly, he felt a sharp surge of dislike toward Potato.
“Sages of Ages?” he scoffed. “Seriously, what is this — kindergarten?”
Still, irritation aside, the invitation was in his hands. After a moment’s hesitation, Noah decided to finish what he’d started. And after he cooled down and could think clearly, maybe he’d visit Potato & Co.
He approached Ferhana’s door, but found no button. Come to think of it, his own door didn’t have one either. People here must’ve done it the old-fashioned way — by knocking.
Unless…
Noah pulled out his phone and checked the screen. As soon as he stepped closer to the door, a little notification popped up with a silver bell icon.
Perfect. Even doorbells were an app.
He tapped the bell. A distant, heavily muffled chime reached his ear — enough to make him frown.
So the building wasn’t that well insulated, despite Beata’s guess. The crushing silence was natural — as if all the residents were somewhere else, or huddled silently inside their apartments, afraid to make the slightest noise.
He wondered whether this building was uniquely quiet or if the whole city was like this.
The mysterious Ferhana didn’t answer. Noah tried a few more times — nothing.
He moved to door 420 and repeated the procedure. Same result. He could barely hear the distant chime again, but no one came. Checking the phone for Greenwich time, he saw 14:26. Theoretically, the living would be at work at this hour. Maybe his neighbors were out too. Even if they weren’t paid for it.
Sighing, Noah checked Potato’s message once more and memorized the teleportation code. If the message had included a normal address, Noah absolutely would’ve walked — just to see the city. But the teleport code revealed nothing useful, and he didn’t feel like digging through an address app — assuming one existed at all.
He went down to the first floor, stepped into the nearest teleportation booth, and entered the number sequence.
A green bar blinked a few times lazily, then the digits vanished, and the screen flashed an unpleasant shade of red.
SYSTEM ERROR. PLEASE WAIT… RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS.
“I knew it!” Noah snorted. “I said these things would break down one day! And of course it happens now…”
He leaned against the cabin wall and pulled out his phone, planning to look up Potato’s address manually.
Before he could, the phone vibrated insistently. The caller ID lit up the screen:
This Magnificent Agent.
Everest…
“Hel—”
“Bitch, did you just try to teleport out of Venice without telling me?” Everest cut him off.
“Uh… I… don’t know?..” Noah stammered.
Everest sighed.
“Venice’s code is 003. You just entered 004 — Avarenta’s code. Why the hell were you going there?”
“I… got an invitation,” Noah said, finally collecting himself. “From… from the Sages of Ages.”
Heavy, ominous silence.
“From who?”
“From Fresh Potato… Ugh... Look, I don’t know his real name, okay? He’s part of some Sages of Ages clan or guild — I have no idea. I just know they watched me during the Dream Sphere test, and now they sent a message inviting me to visit them. And since I couldn’t meet any of my neighbors, I thought I’d accept.”
Everest sighed loudly.
“Hold on.”
Noah heard rapid typing. Then a soft snort. Finally:
“Alright, go. I’m logging the time of your departure. When you come back, use the teleporter normally, don’t call me. And next time, pay attention to the city codes, or I’ll break your neck.”
He hung up as abruptly as he’d answered.
Noah stood frozen, cold sweat running down his forehead. A moment later, the teleporter screen lit green again, inviting him to try his luck.
“Jesus Christ on a stick…” Noah muttered.