Original Image: Alejandro Mendoza
Garrett Fisker fell into the worn seat cushion of his desk chair with a sigh. He rolled the small battery in his hand across the worn faux wooden surface and cringed at the noise it made, immense in the silence of the late night. With a sluggish lunge he placed a hand over it before it could connect with the mug full of never used pens and pencils.
He cast a withering glare over his shoulder at the now silenced wall clock. In the gloom illuminated by nothing but a small green standby light on his PC he couldn’t make out the time the infernal machine would now permanently tell. He just knew it was late and he was awake.
Again.
With the lightest of touches his desk lamp came on at its lowest setting but after hours of lying in the dark hoping for sleep it was spotlight bright. Garrett turned from the assault, staring into the dark corner between the wardrobe and bedroom door. Beyond he could hear the snoring duet of his parents.
Lucky.
Once his eyes had acclimated enough, he turned to the monitor and reached out. He stopped just before his thumb touched the power button. Reflected poorly in the blank screen he saw his haggard, pale face. A ribbon of anger threaded through the fatigue. He looked awful. Far from the winning smile, styled hair, and thoughtfully dressed Garrett of a few weeks prior.
What bothered him most was the lack of understanding for his predicament. In the past he had coped with bouts of insomnia, but they never lasted long and, most importantly, there was an obvious reason behind it. Exams. It was always exams. No matter how well he did in school when the big exams loomed, he lost sleep.
But that was then.
In the now he was working his way through an accountancy course in college. Breezing his way through in fact. The numbers made sense. They did what they were meant to do as the rules dictated. In addition, he was among fellow number nerds who made him realise one of the most important aspects in life is to find your people. Not only had he acquired new friends but within a day of being on campus he found it easier to talk to women. It was a true rebirth from the years of accrued crap in school.
Yet here he was at an indeterminate time of night unable to sleep like so many nights before. Here he sat staring at the worn out features of a young man who, minutes before, had lost all semblance of sense and wrenched the life-giving battery out a clock he held responsible for driving him to the brink of sanity.
The monitor sprung to life. Garrett was only half aware he had turned it on.
As the screen came into as much focus as Garrett’s bleary eyes were capable of, the icon for Darkened pulled his attention as it so often did being placed in the middle of the desktop.
You.
There was a part of Garrett that blamed the game for his current state. The extraction shooter had sunk its claws into him something fierce since its release. After being a good little boy and logging off at eleven at the latest every night there had come a time when he didn’t. He just carried on. Game after game until even Sean had called it quits for the night. There was something about the loop of looting, shooting and running for your life that pumped Garrett full of just the right amount of adrenaline and dopamine.
When the pains in his wrists had become too much, he managed to tear himself away but the idea of going straight to sleep was out of the question. He needed something to calm himself. Books and TV had never held much sway in his life, but the rise of streamers had captured his attention. He spent a good couple of hours that night watching all manner of streams until his eyes felt heavy enough.
He might have slept for all of twenty minutes before his dad knocked on the door and told him to move his fetlocks.
Garrett was sure that night was the genesis. The next night he couldn’t sleep right so played some more and watched some more. The same the night after. Eventually the fatigue made it so he couldn’t enjoy playing Darkened. The game required reflexes he no longer had in his depleted state. He had tried to switch gears to Solipsistic Fields, his current favourite puzzler, but his bleary mind and eyes were no good at trying to solve a single problem.
With a sigh Garrett did what he did every night in the blurry unknown hours. He clumsily wrapped his headphones around his head and clicked the tab perennially open to Chasm. Thumbnails of streamers known and new littered his view with indistinct imagery. He rubbed his eyes and clicked on a name he recognised.
Civillain was playing through Empire Infinity, the latest and greatest of the Empire franchise. Unlike previous entries, in this one you started off as a nobody with nothing. It was a survival game essentially but after enough effort you would end up ruling a multi-continent spanning empire that crushes all who oppose it. Garrett had played every Empire game since the second. He had not finished a single one. It took too long for his liking and no matter how up for the latest one he was he always lost his enthusiasm.
Much as he did watching the quiet streamer Civillain working away at a new capital city and dealing with trade routes.
With barely any movement Garrett clicked on lean_raptor. He was inundated with shouting, flashes and the frantic imagery of yet another multiplayer sci-fi shooter.
‘Nothing new here,’ he grumbled to himself as he clicked on another hard to see square.
As the next stream loaded Garrett was already thinking of moving on. He had no idea who NoConsern was, and the misspelling annoyed his irritable senses. Worst of all the game being played was golf.
Blasted Golf.
He read the name again just as the stream loaded.
Huh. Nice.
It was a golf game yes, but it had a post-apocalyptic, Mad Max like setting. NoConsern was lining up a shot off the top of a smouldering tanker in the hopes of landing the ball on a small island oasis in a pond of bubbling hot tar.
The shot was taken. Garrett leant forward as the ball soared through the smoke-filled air. It landed not far from the hole and just shy of what looked to be a mine with its flashing red light warning foolhardy golfers not to play too close or else.
NoConsern screamed with joy and started rabbiting on about how skilled the shot was and how he was setting himself up to be well under par. His voice was one of the most grating to have ever assaulted Garrett’s poor ears. He thought about turning the volume down but knew that the only bearable volume for that voice was none.
He moved on.
Photonica was working on a speedrun of Mega Thump 3, an old 2D platformer Garrett remembered playing as a kid with his dad. The eponymous Thump was a small cartoony sort with comically large fists used to punch his way through enemies, blocks and breakable walls.
Although Garrett knew and enjoyed Photonica’s work, and was a fan of speedrunners in general, he had never sat through someone practising. It was interminable. She was redoing the same five-second loop over and over trying to get a single jump pixel perfect. Watching the loop, hearing the same snippet of the level’s jaunty tune accompanied by the utterances of Photonica as she messed up by mere nanometres each time made him feel like he was losing his mind more than he already was.
Nope. Can’t. Just Can’t.
With another hard poking rub of his eyes Garrett moved his cursor to a button labelled “Random”. He had never done it before, but he couldn’t face more gaming and hoped the button would take him to areas of Chasm he had never considered.
*click*
His screen turned grey as the stream loaded with nothing to see but the username: SlipStitchJan.
Garrett’s brow furrowed in amused befuddlement.
The stream loaded and before him was a middle-aged Asian woman with a kindly face. Her surroundings exuded that cosy warmth that couldn’t be manufactured. A slight yellowish haze of a summery day, kids could be heard playing nearby and he could almost smell the homecooked food.
SlipStitchJan ran a stream teaching people how to crochet. Her accent was a perfect mix of generic American and mainland Chinese. When she showed how to do a specific part of the pattern she was working on with her students (for that was what she called her viewers) it made Garrett want to learn. Not to be able to crochet but to be able to show her, to spend time with her, to think of nothing but the calming but complicated art of crochet.
Alas, within minutes of getting comfy in the delightful woman’s aura SlipStitchJan put her work down, waved at the camera with a smile of perfect teeth and genuine heart, and disappeared.
Damn.
*click*
A downright furious old man going by panem_circenses filled his ears with a lot of hate spat out at high volume and incredible intensity. Garrett couldn’t get what he was talking about other than it was political and apparently everyone but him in the world was wrong. Horribly wrong.
*click*
A film review stream loaded up called Let Me Tell You Something. The two hosts were discussing a film Garrett had never heard of. They named it multiple times, but he still wasn’t sure what it was called. It sounded like Exigency. If that was a word.
Not knowing who the hosts were Garrett named them based on their seating position. The film was apparently a bit of an art house deal but interspersed with blockbuster action. There were only three named characters which Left thought were all different “expressions” of the same person. Whatever that meant. Right on the other hand seemed so confused it was a fifty-fifty shot he hadn’t even watched the film.
*click*
A young woman named Stacylectric was reviewing a bass guitar. Garrett had zero interest in playing an instrument or what made one better than the other, but he found himself lingering. Whilst it was true that Stacylectric was one of the most stunning women he had ever seen and seemed to do her reviewing in the tightest, shiniest latex outfits known to man, he was held in place more by her attempts to play the bass.
More accurately her unwarranted confidence in her ability. As she talked about the pros and cons of the instrument, she played certain “examples” for what she was saying but was unable to so much as move between notes without stopping, looking at her hands, placing them in the next spot and plucking. It all had a certain car crash energy to it of not being able to look away.
It was fascinating until it wasn’t.
*click*
Garrett sighed as another stream was being chosen.
*click*
He didn’t even let the stream load.
*click*
He felt like there was nothing to watch.
*click*
Nope.
*click*
No.
*click*
*click*
*click*
*click*
Garrett kept hitting the randomiser with increasing speed and annoyance. Stream after stream partially loaded before changing to another. He gritted his teeth in frustration but kept clicking. Tendons started to heat up, lines of pain throbbed with mounting intensity. The incessant clicking of the mouse bored through the headphones, enunciated with ever more agonising stabs.
With an ugly grimace he kept going. For why he didn’t know.
Finally, with a muttered swear he let go of the mouse and shook his hand violently. As the browser tried its best to not crash under the assault he began to massage away the fire in his wrist.
The screen before him was mostly a grey square. Thumbnails slowly popped in down the right side, but the stream itself was taking its time. Garrett narrowed his eyes at the top left of the square and tried to read the username fate and stupidity had chosen.
‘Ennuieary?’ he whispered with zero confidence of the pronunciation.
Maybe?
‘Ennuieary,’ he said again, testing a different emphasis. ‘Ennuieary?’
The stream loaded with a suddenness. Unlike everything around Garrett, the screen before him was now crystal clear. His smeary vision was gone as he beheld the streamer.
Ennuieary was a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He had the pale skin of the terminally online, lank shoulder length dark hair, and a light grey t-shirt with the word “Fade” on the chest in a thick impactful font that repeated beneath it over and over with each successive word becoming less distinct. Nothing else could be discerned as he sat slumped in some manner of chair in a dark room illuminated only by the light of his screen.
He stared directly into the camera. Dark eyes peering out from an almost white face.
OK.
Garrett stared at the screen. He didn’t know what to make of the odd streamer. He thought perhaps he had caught someone zoning out late at night, another tired soul staring into space who would snap back to reality in a second and start talking about whatever. So, Garrett waited.
Ennuieary did nothing.
Garrett waited longer. A perplexed smile worked into his features.
Ennuieary continued to do nothing.
Garrett’s smile deepened.
It’s a joke. Someone’s looped a video of a picture or something.
But Garrett didn’t look away. A part of him knew the truth and the rest wanted confirmation.
There!
He spied the gentle rising and falling of the man’s breathing. It was slow. Incredibly slow Garrett thought the longer he watched. The breaths were long and deep; at a pace Garrett couldn’t match.
Not for want of trying.
Hours passed. Maybe. Garrett couldn’t be sure. He tried to breath as Ennuieary did but couldn’t. He tried to sit as Ennuieary did but found himself fidgeting; his ribs beginning to ache. He tried to turn the stream off, thinking that after who knows how long it was getting a bit weird to still be watching.
But he couldn’t.
There was something holding him in place. The entire premise was fascinating, like a piece of performance art. And then there were his eyes. Glistening pools of darkness. They were black in the strange illumination and had a life to them that felt like movement. Hypnotic. But whenever Garrett renewed his focus they could be seen to be just as static as most of the rest of him.
A sound behind his shoulder.
Garrett turned for a second. Light was beginning to peek through the black venetian blinds as sounds of the world waking up began to rise from the silence. With a grunt of acknowledgment that sounded far too loud in his headphone encased ears Garrett turned back.
Ennuieary was gone.
The stream had ended and the odd man was logged off.
Garrett felt a peculiar drop in his stomach. An emptiness akin to the kind of grief one gets as a child when a friend moves far away. He felt something in his chest. It rose through his throat, uncomfortable and alien, until it reached his mouth and he let out a sob. Quick, sharp and immediately pulled back, but real and hurtful, nonetheless.
‘Leave him alone Darryl.’
‘I’m not doing anything to him Sal.’
Garrett sat at the table with his parents and wished he could eat his cereal faster to get away from the conversation but that would only bring about more questions.
‘Four times last night I had to get up for a whizz then I stand there barely getting out a couple of drops.’
‘Darryl! Don’t be so crass.’
Darryl Fisker gave his wife a look of “that’s not the point” but suffered return fire of “it’s my point right now”.
‘Aye. Well. Winner over here was awake each time. I could see his lamp and could hear that infernal machine.’ Darryl turned to his son and gave him an exasperated look. ‘What is so important you have to be staring at that thing all night?’
Garrett kept his eyes on his cereal. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ he said with a shrug.
Darryl stood up as he brushed the last few crumbs of toast from his hands onto his plate. ‘Looking at a screen isn’t going to help,’ he said in a threatening rumble.
He leaned forward and pointed a thick finger at his son. Before he could say anything else he caught sight of Sally glaring daggers at the hated gesture, and the finger was summarily retracted.
‘You need to buck up sunshine. Like right now,’ Darryl said, straightening up. ‘If you don’t get a handle on this sleeping crap you won’t be in college much longer. Your course requires brains which you have in spades but all the brains in the world don’t matter a damn thing without proper care.’
Darryl threw his coat on with an enviably smooth grace and checked his keys were in the pocket.
‘Screw up and you’ll be working for me.’ Arched eyebrows did the pointing he wasn’t allowed to do. ‘And it won’t be some cushy job in billing. You’ll be starting from the bottom rung. Hell, you throw this opportunity away and I’ll invent an even lower rung just for you.’
He was right of course. The delivery was unpleasant, but the truth was undeniable. As Garrett acknowledged to himself throughout the day when he found himself incapable of concentrating on a single lesson. Tutors talked and peers postulated but Garrett’s mind was as bleary as his late-night vision.
After a day of trying and failing to stay engaged in talk of numbers and software he found himself a corner and looked up the stranger who had so captured his attention.
Ennuieary’s presence on Chasm was not enlightening in the slightest. He had no profile picture, opting instead for the default silhouette. He had no blurb about himself or his stream. He had no followers, and a quick search showed no one had mentioned him. Ever.
Garrett pursed his lips in thought as he clicked the follow button. Ennuieary’s count morphed into a sad “one”.
A meaty paw shoved his knee hard to spin him around on the chair. ‘Pub?’ Sean said with a winning smile and a need for alcohol in his eyes.
Everyone on the course were either eighteen or close enough to be of the same mindset. Being in a pub legally made it all the sweeter as they could relax with a drink, talk about whatever they pleased and happily show off their I.D. to every bar staff who eyed them suspiciously.
One of the first things Garrett learned about accounting in his first week of college was that number people really liked to put it away at the end of the day.
‘Bevvies all ‘round?’ Sean said as if he was going to the bar instead of returning with three pints of local brew.
A shade over a month older than Garrett, Sean had a worldliness that was almost alien. He had an air about him that made it seem like he belonged in a pub, having a pint and watching the game. The irony being Sean cared not for a single sport. He was taller than Garrett, a bit overweight and bearing the pudginess of youth, with blonde hair almost touching his shoulders. But don’t call it a bob. Sean was adamant on that.
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Dawn said as she swiped a glass and downed a third before either of the men had taken a sip.
The third member of their little cadre, Dawn looked more like a fashion student than an accountancy one with her close cropped, vibrant ginger hair, designer glasses and upmarket clothes.
‘Hayley really thought she had us with that surprise exam, didn’t she?’ Sean said, his beaming smile never faltering.
Garrett looked over the rim of the glass. His brow furrowed. He didn’t remember an exam.
‘Can’t call it that,’ Dawn said. She paused to hold a hand over her mouth as she burped. ‘Was barely a quiz.’
Garrett didn’t remember a quiz either. But apparently, he had done one.
I really need to sleep.
The conversation quickly moved on and Garrett, unable to follow, drifted away into his mental fog. The voices near and far moved around him, undulated like ocean swells. Sunlight through the windows glinted off dozens of glasses. Aromas pleasant and not wafted by from all directions.
‘You guys ever heard of Ennuieary?’
Garrett snapped back to reality as he was speaking.
‘No?’ Sean had clearly been midsentence of a vastly different topic. ‘Why?’
‘I dunno.’ Garrett lifted his glass, but it was empty. He stared at it in annoyed confusion. ‘It’s just I came across his stream last night. Dude just sits there and stares into the camera. For, like, hours.’
Sean’s face screwed up. ‘Why would anyone watch that?’
‘I dunno,’ Garrett drawled.
A glass clunked down on the round wooden table. Dawn put it with her other empty and delicately wiped at her mouth with a vividly green handkerchief. ‘You should be careful Fisky, there’s some real nut jobs on Chasm. Jump scares with fucked up imagery for no reason than to force you to see shit you need therapy for.’
The way the corners of Dawn’s mouth pulled down as she spoke made it clear she had made that very mistake.
‘Hey mum.’
Garrett walked into the kitchen, slung his bag onto the table and rooted around inside.
‘Hey you,’ Sally Fisker said as she pulled the tea bag out of her mug and poured some milk. ‘You seem a bit brighter than earlier.’
As he started cleaning the inside of his lunchbox it occurred to Garrett, he did feel better. ‘Yeah. I popped down the Ship and Crown for a bit with the guys.’
Sally fixed her son with a look.
‘I only had one drink mum. It was just nice to get out my head for a bit.’
A judgemental eyebrow lowered. ‘Well, now you’re home I’d recommend if you have any coursework to be doing then get to it.’
Garrett placed both parts of his lunchbox on the draining board. ‘Why?’
Sally threw him a hand towel. ‘To show your father you’re actually doing the course.’
‘I had a surprise quiz just today. Did well I think.’
‘You think?’
‘Yeah. I, uh, I can’t quite remember what the tutor said.’
Sally went quiet but, as always, her face spoken volumes. Garrett smirked, hung up the towel and grabbed his bag.
‘I’ll be getting to it.’
Three chunky knocks rung out from the bedroom door followed by the intimidatingly large frame of Darryl Fisker. The hazy late afternoon sun filled the room with warm yellow tones whilst the blinds slashed lines of darkness across Darryl’s face.
‘Hey,’ Garrett said from his desk, his fingers unceasingly tapping away at the keys.
‘Evening Garrett.’
Darryl took the two steps needed to cross the room, stood behind Garrett and leaned over his shoulder. Back in his school days most of Garrett’s friends thought Darryl was a nice dad but scary at the same time. He had a presence about him that wasn’t just to do with his size.
He studied the screen as Garrett did his best to act like he wasn’t there. He typed in formulae whilst alt-tabbing between the software and exercise instructions. There was the urge to turn and ask what he wanted but Garrett was no fool.
Just keep going.
The pair held their positions for who knows how long. Garrett kept at it and Darryl observed in silence.
Without warning he clapped a giant hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezed gently and straightened up. ‘Looks good. Dinner’s almost ready so come down soon.’
‘OK,’ Garrett said as his dad walked away.
Darryl stopped halfway through the door and cleared his throat. He looked over his shoulder. Under reddish skin his jaw repeatedly clenched and unclenched. ‘I’m sorry about this morning.’
Garrett stared at the screen for a moment, his worn-out mind needing a few seconds to compute the change in atmosphere. He turned with the intention of telling his dad it was fine, to brush it off as he did so many things.
‘I should never have bitten your head off like that.’ Darryl needed to get it all out. ‘I was frustrated. I know you Gar, you’re a smart kid. No. A smart young man nowadays. I know you’ve got what is required to make something of yourself, far outstripping me.’
Garret tried to keep his mouth from gawping at the admission.
‘Don’t get me wrong, I’d love for you to come work for me in the future. Even take over one day. A genuine family business. But I think you could go further than a cleaning chemicals supplier. So, when I see you dragging your arse about, mumbling into your chest, and being up at all hours, well, it gets to me. It feels like you’re ruining things for yourself.’
‘I’m just having trouble sleeping. Real trouble.’ Garrett didn’t know how many more times he could tell the man.
‘I know.’ Darryl put up his hands, slightly bowed his head then nodded. ‘I know. I didn’t get it at first, but I know. What I’m trying to say is I was wrong to snap. I was wrong to turn frustration into an attack. I was wrong to doubt you.’
Father and son stared at each other in the warm evening haze.
‘Thanks,’ Garret said. ‘I get it.’
Without looking he turned the screen off, pushed himself away from the desk and followed Darryl downstairs.
Garrett lay in bed with his eyes closed and concentrated on his breathing. Across the hallway his parents were engaged in a snoring battle for supremacy of such vigour he would swear he could hear the cutlery jangling in the kitchen drawers.
The dinner had been one of the most enjoyable family meals in what felt like forever. Homemade lasagne using far too much cheese and a lashings of red wine. Both parents talking about their days, picking over the local gossip, and everyone talking about the latest films and shows. More than once, Garrett had stopped eating, taken a deep breath and sighed with a contentment he had forgotten existed. He watched and listened to his parents, the glint in their eyes and smirks as they teased each other. He hadn’t realised how much he missed normality.
He had all but blurted out to them that he thought he should go to the doctors’ about his insomnia. The conversation stopped, eyes turned upon him and he thought maybe it was mistake.
He had not.
Sally smiled and said she thought that was the best idea, that things had gone on too long. Darryl nodded enthusiastically as he chewed through more than a sensible mouthful of lasagne. Garrett said he would make an appointment in the morning, but his mum pointed out that might be tricky as the phonelines don’t open until he’s well on his way to college. She said she would sort it for him and without even looking pointed a finger at Darryl and told him to keep those eyebrows where they belong. She asked him how was their poor son going to make such a call from a bus? And besides, wasn’t it more important that the appointment be made rather than who made it.
Darryl was well aware he was beaten before he had finished chewing.
In the darkness Garrett let out a light laugh. It filled the room, drowning out everything, even the snoring. He hoped there would be more meals like that.
There can be. All you’ve got to do is sleep.
At his mum’s suggestion he had downloaded a white noise app on his tablet and had gone on to ignore it entirely. But lying there in the small hours wishing for sleep and getting nowhere it sprung back to mind. With a half-turn roll, he grabbed the device, fired it up, chose “Raining Streets” and lay back down.
The sound of the raindrops was instantly annoying. He was normally one to enjoy watching and listening to such things in real life but through the tinny speakers of the tablet it was a grating, artificial thing. He tried a couple more to no avail; “Waves on the Shore” had the same unpleasant fakeness, “Static” was simply horrible, “Hiss” was somehow even worse. “Distant Thunder” had a certain something to it he liked but the longer it went on the more disquiet he felt. There was a strange quality to it that made him feel anxious.
Or it was the insomnia.
Probably the insomnia.
Bollocks to this.
Garrett sat up in bed, pulled his pillows up to cushion his back against the cold metal bars of the headboard, and stabbed at the tablet. Once the thunder was gone, he stared at the screen, so bright in the dark, and scanned the app icons. With a mental shrug of “it couldn’t hurt” he fired up the book he was currently haphazardly working through and started reading.
It had been some time since he last read any of it, so he flicked back a few pages and gave them a quick peruse. Satisfied he remembered what was happening he carried on. Three pages in he also remembered why it was taking so long to read. There was something about the story, or the way it was written, that induced heaviness in the eyelids. It wasn’t that it was boring, just that it was a difficult concept written in a strange, dreamlike manner.
Perfect.
Garrett pushed on through two more pages until his eyesight blurred. He closed his eyes, hugging the tablet to his chest and wondered why he hadn’t thought of the book before.
Time passed but no sleep came.
God fucking damn it.
He felt like he could throw the tablet in his frustration but the tech lover within him threatened grave retaliation if he dared to do such a ghastly act. He glared at the screen instead, the words blurring and distorting before him.
*ping*
Huh?
A notification popped up in the bottom right of the screen. Ennuieary’s stream was live.
Garrett bit into his lip. It was a bad idea. Nothing good could come of it, he knew that. Dawn was right about weirdo streamers. He didn’t think Ennuieary was one for jump scares but there was certainly something not right about the whole thing.
He looked at the clock on the wall.
4:45.
Garrett scowled. That can’t be right. It was late but not that late surely. Then he remembered its incessant ticking had led to its disembowelling. He looked at the clock on the tablet, but the small digital readout was filmy and unreadable to his sleep starved senses.
The notification lingered as if watching. Waiting.
No. No I won’t. Even if I don’t sleep a second I won’t. There’s plenty of—
Garrett clicked the notification. Chasm loaded into a fresh tab.
With unerring clarity, the pale-faced, greasy-haired man appeared. Nothing was different. His posture, his surroundings, his eye contact, even his shabby t-shirt.
Garrett pushed the tablet’s volume to maximum with the idea of gleaning something through a barely audible noise in the background but after long minutes he had heard nothing. Not even the hum of the PC being used.
He stared into the man’s eyes and wondered what made someone do it. What sort of person decided one day to spend hours at a time staring into a webcam. He wondered if it was a form of therapy or perhaps meditation. It would certainly explain the strange breathing.
None of that rung true. There was something in the streamer’s black eyes. Something ill-defined. It wasn’t malice but it wasn’t not either. The longer he looked the more he felt an alien anxiety crawl through the core of his spine.
They were so clear, so directed. A worryingly large part of Garrett’s psyche could easily believe the streamer was looking at him. Not a webcam. Him. As if he could see across however much space separated them.
The darkness around Ennuieary flickered.
Garrett glanced for but a split second away from the streamer’s eyes but there was nothing there.
He locked eyes again and wondered if he was going mad. He wondered what the limit was for sleep deprivation before permanent damage occurred. A faint light in the foggy recesses of his brain mentioned something about psychosis after a few days. He tried to think when the last time he slept was. He knew he wasn’t awake constantly. He couldn’t be. It had been weeks. He wondered how many times he had slept unknowingly.
The darkness moved.
What the hell?
He kept his eyes on Ennuieary’s and tried to see peripherally. The more intently he held onto the streamer’s gaze the more the darkness around him seem to swirl and undulate in hypnotic patterns.
It was like trying not to blink. The more you try the more you want to.
Eventually Garrett caved and looked at the ethereal display. There was nothing. Just impenetrable darkness.
His eyes returned to Ennuieary.
The pale man was smiling hideously wide, his irregular white teeth were bared to the gums, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
With a terrified wheeze Garrett threw the tablet across the bed but with reactions he would later be surprised at he instantly leapt after it for fear of it falling to the floor and waking the house.
His fingertips grasped just enough of the textured case to stop its descent.
Breathing heavily, flat on his stomach and with a growing ache in his balls, he carefully pulled the tablet back up along the duvet until he could grab it with his other hand. He took a quaking breath. And another. With shaking hands, he turned the tablet over. The bright screen cast a cold light onto the ceiling.
Ennuieary was gone.
A snapping sound close to Garrett’s face brought him back to the world. He looked at the meaty digits so close to his nose he could smell the hand soap.
They snapped again, a thunderous sound with such force behind it Garrett thought he felt the air move.
‘You back with us lad?’
Garrett tried his best to focus beyond the fingers. Darryl’s face was all concern from the twisted lips to the furrowed brow to the ever so slight pinching around the eyes.
It took Garrett a second to realise he was holding a spoonful of cereal to his mouth, that he was in fact leant over his bowl mouth agape. Milk began to dribble from his spoon, splashing back into the half-eaten bowl and peppering the table with white dots.
‘Sorry,’ Garrett muttered to no one in particular and started wiping the spots with the cuff of his sleeve.
‘Don’t do that Gar, you’ll spend the day smelling of rotten milk.’ Darryl was studying his son intently as he spoke as softly as he was able. Which wasn’t much.
‘Sorry dad. Sorry.’
Before Sally could bore a hole through his skull with a withering look Darryl had already put his hands up and delivered the rare “I know” counter expression.
‘As I said.’ Darryl used his more practised business tone in an attempt to come across better. ‘I see that sleep still eludes you.’
Garrett nodded as he crunched through a mouthful of whatever he had poured out.
‘Thankfully Sally Fisker takes no prisoners on the phone, even with that curmudgeon Gladys down at the surgery, so I’m sure you’ll have an appointment by tomorrow morning.’
Darryl shot his wife a wink and noticeably brightened upon seeing the withering returned to loving.
‘Maybe take the day off?’ Sally said from near the kettle. Her eyes studied every pore, every out of place hair, every twitch.
Garrett did his best to smile but anything beyond a lopsided smirk made him think of the freakish grin from last night. ‘Thanks. Rather not sit around moping though.’
The parents exchanged glances impenetrable to the sleep deprived.
‘Yes. Of course.’ Sally said. ‘But come home if you don’t feel up to it.’
‘You ever thought about just getting absolutely trashed?’ Sean said as he lay on the grass verge propped up on his elbows.
‘Yup.’ Next to him, sat cross-legged, Garrett wiped a hand down his face. The act pulled at his slack, haggard skin and made him look momentarily ghoulish. ‘Just don’t think it would fix the problem. Problems?’
‘Sleep is sleep my dude even if it’s chemically induced. Besides, what do you think the doc is gonna do huh? Prescribe you some drugs, right? At least this way you can have some fun.’
As Sean finished his rudimentary peer pressure he wagged a lit joint provocatively at Garret.
‘Go on Fisker, you know I’m right.’
Garrett looked at the joint. He thought about declining. He thought about how there were two more lessons ahead of them, a bus ride home, conversations with one or both parents, and who knows what else.
Fuck it.
He held his hand out. ‘Who said accounting is boring, eh?’
Sean had pulled the illicit smoke back for a last pull then handed it to the waiting insomniac.
‘It is,’ he said through a smoky exhale. ‘That’s why we’ll drink, smoke, snort and lick anything that promises a good time.’
He only just managed to finish the sentence before devolving into laughter that soon became a hacking cough.
Garrett took a drag. Inhaled. Held it. ‘So why do the course?’ he said before puffing out a cloud of noxious good times.
‘Aaah, ha. Ha.’ Sean had himself under control other than his streaming eyes which he continued to dab at. ‘Money. Duh. This shit is easy when you know how. Yet people pay top dollar the world over because once you’re past a certain level of rich it’s more financially sound to pay someone to manage it than take the time yourself.’
Sean looked out at the park beyond full of sun, students and smoke, a tranquil look settling over his usual mischievousness.
‘It’ll be hard graft for a while, you know? But there’s ways and means to rise ever higher. I figure once we’re done here it’ll be ten, fifteen years tops and I’ll only be working six months a year.’ A smile of such serenity spread across his face. He nodded to himself then cracked his neck left and right. With a slight turn he squinted through the sunlight at Garrett. ‘Stop hogging it.’
Either the classroom was warm and fuzzy or Garrett was in the happy middle part of being stoned. With all worries dampened under a green blanket he found the exercises given out by the tutor easier than ever. No fractured thought processes, no pondering ten other things whilst trying to focus on the problem at hand.
Sat at a computer on a long desk running the length of the room’s far wall he quietly tapped away as did five others. The desk continued to run halfway along both side walls but only three more spots were occupied. Two terms of problems, coursework and exams had cut the wheat from the chaff.
Garrett felt so good he thought he might even sleep when he got home. A nap would be nice. Passing out until morning would be perfection. The tricky bit would be getting to his bed before conking out.
His screen flashed with an image of Ennuieary, his smile wider than ever.
‘Fuck!’ Garrett shouted as he pushed his chair backwards into the centre of the room.
‘Garrett Fisker!’ Hayley shouted from her desk at the head of the classroom.
The course’s main tutor was a retired accountant for some multinational conglomerate. She told the class on their first day that it had taken all of a week for her to get bored at home and start looking for a job.
Impeccably well dressed in business attire straight out of the nineties with a short grey bob always tied up in impressive ways she looked out of place in the college. But she clearly enjoyed it. She liked teaching, she liked students who had a want to do the work. She liked Garrett.
But not right now.
‘I will not permit such heinous outbursts in my classroom young man,’ she said, rising to her full five and a half feet.
‘Shit I’m sorry,’ Garrett said, not taking his eyes off the screen that showed nothing but a particularly convoluted excel worksheet. ‘Guh, sorry, fuck. No! I didn’t mean that. Shit.’ He closed his eyes for a second. Took a breath. Let it out. ‘God damn it.’
Slowly, he turned his chair around to face Hayley. The woman stood at her desk, fists on hips, head tilted and eyes popped wide waiting for some manner of explanation. As he turned Garrett took in the faces on his classmates; Sean’s eyes were wider than Hayleys, redder too, and he looked on the verge of laughing; Dawn’s gritted teeth were bared and she slowly shook her head, urging her friend to shut up; everyone else blurred into everyone else.
‘I’m really sorry Hayley,’ he said once he was facing her. ‘I think I fell asleep for a second.’
‘That’s not very professional is it Mr. Fisker?’
Garrett hated being called that. It sounded like some kids cartoon character. He didn’t know how his dad coped.
‘Aw go easy on him.’ Dawn had come to his rescue. ‘He’s barely slept in weeks. Just look at him. He’s awful.’
Thanks, I guess.
Hayley did look at him. Intently. For so long in fact, he felt like some carnival freak on display. He wondered, under such scrutiny, if she would notice he was stoned. Or, being a tutor of college age students, was that one of those things she ignored?
‘Are you OK to continue?’ she said in a mercifully softer voice.
Garrett’s head nodded numerous times before he remembered to speak. ‘Yeah. I mean, yes. I’ll be fine. Thanks. Sorry.’
On his minor journey back to his work he mouthed a silent “thank you” to Dawn who flashed him a winning smile, a wink and finger guns that were all at odds with her look. He did his best not to laugh.
For the remainder of the lesson Garrett did his best to work but every time he took his eyes off the screen, he feared returning to it. But he was alone each time.
The longer it went on the more frayed he felt. The skin around his left eye twitched with each glance at the screen. He could hear a high-pitched tone in his ears until he couldn’t then he could again.
The exercises were still easy, but the environment felt hostile. Finally, Hayley thanked the class for their time, told them they would be finishing up tomorrow morning and, in the afternoon, there would be another test. “To keep you on your toes”.
Fed up of being on my toes. On my nerves. On God damn tenterhooks.
He purposely took his time gathering his stuff, not wanting to be in the crush at the door and beyond. Sean passed by with a beefy shoulder punch telling him to hurry up. Dawn kept eye contact as she walked by as she tried to make sure he was all good.
Free of the proximity of others Garrett made his way out of the room, offering up a silent prayer to whatever that Hayley didn’t make any more comments.
The red gloss painted bricks of the hallway made it uncomfortably chilly even on such a summery day, but Garrett wasn’t going to be rushing out as usual. At a steady pace he made his way through, passing the occasional group that lingered at the end of the day for reasons he could never fathom. Acrylic sheet windows at head height looked into classrooms that blurred together as he walked.
A flicker in a window. Garrett looked before thinking. Ennuieary grinned wide, his face angled as if leant forward.
‘Shitting hell,’ he said to himself as he lurched away from the sight.
Something was next to his heel. He tripped, fell for forever, then landed in a pile of limbs with the wind knocked out of him. He gasped, coughed, regretted it and coughed harder. Through his watering eyes he saw fearsome shapes surround him from on high. He blinked away the tears until the shapes coalesced into a group of poorly rendered demons and angels.
Garrett felt his mind splitting at the seams.
‘What in the blue,’ he started but trailed off.
A young face with a long grey beard materialised between a demon who was more horns that face and an angel whose eyes were far too wide. The man leaned down and offered a hand.
‘You OK Gar?’
Garrett stared at the young old man with the well-manicured nails who seemed to know who he was. Then the beard was pulled down and he saw Christian, a drama student currently rehearsing Doctor Faustus.
‘Shit on a shingle,’ he muttered and took the proffered hand. Once he was on his feet he apologised to all the demons and angels individually. ‘Thanks Chris, sorry about that, must’ve tripped over myself.’
‘It’s no bother.’ Christian was, as always, caring and accommodating. ‘You sure you’re OK though? You look, I don’t know, off?’
Garrett’s heart thundered in his chest as his eyes went wide and his face took on a sheen of sweat.
Ennuieary hadn’t left the window. Grinning. Unmoving.
‘I’m. Yeah.’ Garrett couldn’t focus. ‘Break their legs, Chris.’
The vibrations of the bus rattled through Garrett’s skull, but he kept his head pressed against the glass. With his eyes closed and Sean’s unending conversation the world felt almost normal.
‘It’s gonna be so sick dude,’ Sean continued. He had spent their time waiting for the perennially late bus scrolling through patch notes. Darkened was getting a substantial update in a couple of days and it was big news for Sean. And Garrett on a normal day. ‘A whole new map. Ha! It’s been ages since we’ve had anywhere new to play.’
Garrett grunted in the affirmative. The bus hit a pothole, and the window thumped him in head. The shock made him open his eyes and there he was. In every passing shop front, every car window, every grimy bus stop. The same unnerving smile.
‘It’s all in your head. You need to sleep,’ he whispered.
‘What’s that?’
Garrett glanced over at Sean. ‘Uh, just saying I’m looking forward to that new map condition too yeah?’
‘Oh, shit yeah, almost forgot.’ He was away again. ‘Sudden cracks in the ground spewing lava are gonna make for some sweaty matches, eh? Can’t be playing it safe then.’
Face after face after face after face.
Before Garrett had fully shut the door his mum was shouting down the corridor.
‘You’re all booked in lovely boy,’ she said with the kind of projection only a mother could muster.
Garrett joined her in the kitchen where she was sat at the breakfast table doing a crossword on her phone. A green notebook used to track all the jobs, errands, appointments and other bits and bobs of homelife sat to the side, discarded and forgotten in lieu of the brain teaser.
‘Eight forty-five with Doctor Begum,’ Sally said without looking up.
Garrett nodded but couldn’t move. The journey home had been hellish. He knew he was losing his mind and hoped against all hope it wasn’t too late to fix it. In silence and without making eye contact with any reflective surface, he knelt next to his mum until she looked at him then wrapped his arms around her.
He knew she would be surprised; it wasn’t something he did after all. But she enveloped him without thought, holding him close and rubbing his back. He felt like he could cry but he didn’t want to upset her.
They stayed locked together for a second or a century. Time was more of a suggestion to Garrett of late. When he eventually broke the hug Sally kept hold of him by the forearms and studied his face.
‘My poor boy, look at you,’ she said so soothingly it ached.
‘I’m OK mum.’ Garrett decided midsentence he didn’t want to lie. ‘I mean. I will be. Tomorrow. I’m so tired I think I could get some real sleep. Like right now.’
Sally continued to inspect him. Worry etched into her face the longer she looked but then evaporated in an instant. ‘You go on up then. I won’t bother you for dinner, you can come grab something when you’re ready. And I’ll make sure your father leaves you alone or so help him!’
She smiled but there was clear strain to hold it.
‘You’re the best, mum,’ Garrett said as he got to his feet.
‘Don’t you forget it young man,’ she said with pointed finger and a genuine smirk.
Garrett felt his face crease as he trod up the stairs. Each step was a herculean labour but with one last heave he crested the top step, then stumbled to his door, threw his bag to the floor and crashed into the inviting mattress.
The darkness was total and Garrett was the only thing conscious within it.
*ping*
No.
The notification had come from the PC. He didn’t remember turning it on but then again, he didn’t remember much of the hours since his head made contact with the pillow.
*ping*
Why the hell would it notify me again?
Garrett stared at the PC with hate and fear. He wanted to take an axe to it. To every internet connected device he owned. Maybe it was them stopping him from sleeping.
Sure, he had closed his eyes. His mind had wandered. But he never switched off. Or if he did it wasn’t for long. He had heard his dad come home. Had listened to the slivers of conversation as both parents made dinner and discussed their days. He heard footsteps up and down stairs done as lightly as possible. Even his phone, buried in his bag as it was, could be heard buzzing with the occasional message.
*ping*
Go fuck yourself.
The bravado was forced. The bravado was most certainly fake. He cast his eyes to the clock before remembering.
*ping*
Garrett found himself sitting in his chair. His breathing was shallow; his heart rate was raised.
Don’t do this man. Please.
*ping*
He tapped the keyboard. The monitor woke up. Five notifications had stacked up the right side of the screen, each informing him Ennuieary had started to stream.
Garrett’s hand trembled over the mouse as he stared at the note tiles. He knew he was being stupid. The sleep deprivation was reaching all new levels of messing with his sense of reality.
Either look and know it’s some weirdo being amplified by the insomnia or shut down the PC and do something else. Anything else.
*ping*
Garrett clicked the latest tile as it popped up. Every muscle tensed. He felt himself anchored to the desk by the mouse but leant away from the screen, waiting for that joker’s smile to fill it.
The grey square flickered and became the stream. Ennuieary sat slumped, no expression on his face, dark eyes staring into the camera.
Garrett deflated he breathed out so much.
See?
He stared into the pale man’s eyes and felt his heart rate normalise with each breath. An incredible wave of relief washed over him as he came to realise the grin the night before must have been all his doing.
The longer he stared, the more relaxed he felt.
The more the darkness blurred.
Barely perceptible at first, it became clearer and clearer in his periphery as the night dragged on. The darkness of his room, around his monitor seemed to merge with the darkness of the streamer’s room. It was the oddest sensation.
But Garrett had a hold of his mind now. He knew all he had to do was keep it together until morning.
Impressions of swirling, hypnotic patterns began to rise from the dark. Garrett kept his eyes locked on Ennuieary as sweat began to prickle his face and neck.
It’s fine. It’s not happening.
The swirls become more animated at the edges of his vision, moving faster, twitching. Unfurling. Like tentacles of some imperceptible beast the swirls rippled out of the monitor into the darkness of Garrett’s room.
Garrett’s breathing quickened. He wanted wipe his face, to look away, to do anything but keep looking but he feared what would be next.
Nothing. Nothing is happening. Calm down.
The tentacles stretched farther into his room in all directions. Towards the door, towards the shelves, towards the ceiling.
Towards him.
Unable to take it any longer he broke eye contact and looked to the swirls of nothing. For a split second they were there. A thousand strands of darkness on darkness emanating out of the monitor. Then they were gone.
Garrett tried to take a breath but couldn’t.
Tried again. Could. Just about.
He looked back at this monitor. Ennuieary was sat upright in his chair. He held Garrett’s face for a moment and blinked slowly.
With an awful speed he rushed forward and outof the screen.