Munmun Read online

Sometimes too in Dreamworld I used her songs, made a channel to it and played it over speakers like in Mun World and then the dream really goes bright, wild, oily, you wake up with a quick heart and wet eyes, for a few minutes you’re not anywhere.

  And I waited for her to take the hint, get curious, come exploring onenight and see what other people can dream, ay kay ay me.

  And in Lifeanddeathworld retrack test came roaring at me but really it was me roaring at retrack test, gaining speed and building force, melting the days away with my whitehot mind, racing backandforth through the rooms of the house of math, muttering facts during Lifty workouts, hammering practicequestions in the livingroom, demolishing entire practicetests, looking like the last act of a beautifull successstory afterall, Hue Family had highhopes for me again.

  And that whole time I was not myself, barely even human, a robot without emotions or memories.

  Markfive and I stopped talking asmuch, I noticed he started enjoying me less, I stopped being a badass to him, was really just a studynerd.

  He started leaving twentyminutes early from studysesh, then an hour, then before long he wasn’t even coming inside the house, everymorning I just trotted out to his car to do drugs, walked back inside as he sped away, I didn’t care, fine on my own.

  Only in Dreamworld was I really alive, did I have desires, giant wants that made me ache, but everymorning I couldn’t remember what they were.

  The last weekend arrived, last days to study before retrack on munday.

  Daughterday I took all nine sections of a practicetest and toppled them all, great grades, two perfects even.

  Sonday I did it again, even better, four perfects.

  Hue said Warner it’s clear that you’re truly ready, Kitty said You can do this you can change your life forever, Prayer said Bro I’m so proud of you.

  I knew I should be feeling feelings, I knew I should feel pride and excitement, instead I just watched myself getting hugged and celebrated, I was above my own body watching coldly.

  The night before the test my dreams were berserk, every dead and buried object birthed a thousand ghosts, every thrownaway bag and bottle, every broken piece of tech came alive and danced, humans don’t need us anymore so now we are free, a thousand ghostworlds poured out of the trashed one.

  I almost flew into the operahouse and yelled stop the show, Kitty I want you to see this, maybe even need you to see it, live for just a second in the poem that I wrote for you.

  Instead what I did was wait, lurk, hover in every ghostpoem and watch for her.

  Waited for the wildness to finally crack the operawalls, bleed shadows in, shimmerings, playfull vapors, waited for Kitty to realize, I should find him.

  She never did, someone else found me though.

  Someone who knew me pretty well, knew how to reach me. Instead of the faraway tick tick ticklings, faint purrings of other people’s doorbells, I got a rain of pebbles against my window that night, a gray firework in my sky.

  His hair grew and ungrew, like he couldn’t remember whether he had it still, and all he could do atfirst was repeat, “I thought it was you.”

  He was dreaming super weak, blipping in and out, repeating himself, recognizing me and forgetting and remembering again.

  “I thought it was you,” Usher said, smiling.

  “Usher,” I choked.

  “I thought it was you,” he said, exactsame smile.

  Around us every ghost shut their eyes and held their breath.

  “Usher, you’re alive, where are you, tell me everything,” I demanded.

  “I saw the dreamstuff, I thought it was you,” he told me, overandover he said it, I needed to shake him, I needed to touch his skin and couldn’t.

  “Usher, focus please, tell me are you in trouble,” I begged. “Do you need help, where can I find you, please.”

  “Great nice wild dreamstuff,” he said. “I thought it was you, Warner.”

  “Where are you,” I pleaded. “Where are you.”

  “I knew the dreamghosts were Warner, I knew it was you,” he repeated, it made him happy and ripped leaks in my heart.

  I sat with him for a month of dreamtime, onenight but a thousand hours, sometimes that’s how long it takes.

  And at the end finally he blinked, got vivid, murmured, “Nono, notyet, headandshoulders, notyet,” and cringed, just a little grimace but it was worse than a scream.

  He bowed his baldhead and for a swift moment I saw the face inked into the back of his skull, the crude gape of a cartoon idiot, tongue lolling out of a drooly frown and goggly eyes, I had barely enough time to realize I was looking at a faceboy tat before he woke up.

  He left me only a glimpse of the Sand Dreamough reservewar, glitching and miraging like bad uservids from the news, the view from his new sad bedroom remained for a few tooshort moments after he popped out of Dreamworld like a weak bubble.

  VI.

  USHER

  LIFEANDDEATHWORLD

  I woke up, sun was buried, house was still, Prayer was snoring.

  My heart was pounding, mind was pretty clear though, the only thing in there was, save my friend.

  I dressed myself, went out into the house looking for life, first awake person I found was Daisy. She was playing shootemups in the hometheater, upallnight, headphones to cancel sound.

  “Daisy,” I said, she heard nothing.

  Warner what are you doing, Daisy’s not going to help you.

  Hue was already up with the weak sun for morningcardio, I ran in front of the hamstermachine, waved my arms frantically.

  “Hue, help, I saw my friend in Dreamworld and he needs to be rescued,” I yelled as he chugged and puffed. “He was dizzy, dazed, not himself forsure, a squad tatted his head, I think I know who kidnapped him too, a faceboy mob led by the criminal mastermind Shoulderheads, we need to help.”

  “Slowdown, hey, slow it down, your friend definitely told you he was kidnapped?” panted Hue, running with arms and legs in his hamsterwheel.

  “Well no, but I mean he barely said anything, he wasn’t dreaming too good, I’m really worried about him, Hue, we have to do something,” I begged.

  “Do you think it’s possible he might have been on drugs,” wondered Hue.

  “No,” I said, “I mean probably no, I mean look it’s possible if maybe they’re forcing him, but nonono he was like me in kidjail, his dreams were all weak and flickery from stress, nerves, fears, it wasn’t drugs.”

  “It’s Dreamworld, though, Warner,” said Hue, frowning at me, “you can’t trust the impressions you get from Dreamworld.”

  We were quiet a second.

  Warner what are you doing, Hue’s not going to help you either.

  I felt sick, shaky, it was the Sand Dreamough cop alloveragain.

  “Look, there’s no choice here, we have to help him,” I squeaked, losing control.

  He stopped the wheel.

  “Hey, Warner, shhh, take a deep breath,” said Hue. “You’ve done so much amazing work getting ready for the test today, it’s natural to feel nervous about it, but please, don’t let that nervousness undo all the work you’ve done.”

  “I’m not nervous about the stupid test,” I yelled, “I promise you, the test is nothing to me, I’m only nervous about my friend who’s in trouble.”

  He stood there, panting, nodding.

  Then he picked me up.

  He put his sweaty hands under my armpits, fingers locked around my back, thumbs pressing into my chest. He held my face to his and his breath was heavysweet.

  “I’m going to tell you what you’re doing right now,” Hue spoke into my face. “It’s something that you don’t even know you’re doing. I’ve seen it so many times. It’s selfsabotage.”

  I started to shake my head and talk, he jiggled my entire body a little.

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m on your side. I want you to succeed. Stop, take a big deep breath, and just listen to me. I’ve seen this overandover, in poors who are trying to make better fu
tures for themselves. You prepare and prepare, you train and train, you make your long difficult journey to the doorway, you do all that work and you finally arrive at the threshold. And there, at the decisive moment, you choose not to cross it. You choose to turn away.”

  I was quiet but he still jiggled me a little more.

  “I grew up poor, remember, I used to look around me and see other kids selfsabotage and wonder why, it just made no sense,” he said. “But it’s clear to me now. You turn away because you’re afraid of a better future, Warner. All your life you’ve been told you don’t deserve it, and you’ve taken that to heart without realizing. But it’s not true. You do deserve it. Now is the time to reject the part of yourself that doesn’t want success. Now is the time to shut everything else out, concentrate on you, concentrate on your future, and take the test.”

  In his big pale eyes I saw the simple stupid truth.

  “I will,” I promised him.

  Stepped outside the house and called Markfive, woke up the druggy shagster, told him to pick me up right away.

  “Warner, comeon dave, test’s not for another few hours,” he grogged.

  “Markfive, I’ll be honest with you,” I said. “I’ve got some unfinished gangbusiness to take care of this morning.”

  I heard him silently wake up.

  “I’ll take the test, dontworry,” I reassured him. “But first I’ve got a score to settle, maybe you can be a part of it.”

  “Nodoubt, nodoubt, I’ll be right there,” said firedup Markfive.

  We did our standard drugsesh, sped first to Mun World and Eat Votech.

  Firststep, enter Mun World without Markfive, he’s too big unfortunately, I jogged straight to Guns And Bombs.

  “I need a gun and some bullets,” I told the salesfriend.

  “Oh fantastic, which gun,” said the salesfriend, shrimpy and liddyeyed, pinkandblue skin glowing with the pale Mun World light.

  “I guess that one,” I said, pointing to a random halfgun.

  “Great choice, the Pocketpitbull is a standout allpurpose model for hunting, fishing, selfdefense, and militias, now let’s set you up with a backgroundcheck,” said the salesfriend.

  “Hmm, how long will that take,” I asked.

  “Twentyfour hours, just a formality, see if you’ve been in prison or anything,” said the salesfriend.

  “I need the gun right now though is the thing,” I explained.

  “For an extra twohunmun we can make you a Priority Gunman, that means we waive the backgroundcheck, also we put you on a newsletter of great future deals,” offered the salesfriend.

  That sounded great, unfortunately when we checked my card there wasn’t an extra twohundo in my munflow account, infact there was zero muns.

  “No worries, can I apply for Mun World Credit please,” I asked, trying to be smooth.

  “The system says before you make any purchases, you need to resolve your balance with Fresh But Chill,” frowned the salesfriend.

  “How about I just get a knife, no gun, cheap little knife,” I pleaded, but once he saw my munflow balance the salesfriend knew he could be a peen to me.

  In Highend Halfscale Fashion I begged Lease and Jeans for mercy, noluck.

  “Fresh But Chill needs you to make a goodfaith effort to begin to pay them back, unfortunately that means either getting munmun from somewhere else or losing a little scale,” disgusted Lease told me.

  “Meanwhile can you please leave our store until you resolve this embarrassing situation, I mean it’s a little gross for someone so poor to be in Highend Halfscale, wouldn’t you agree,” sniffed Jeans.

  Outside of Mun World I paced furiously, racking my brains, where do I get a halfgun, maybe break the emergency gunbox at Eat Votech, or should I just ask Markfive for a knife, use it as a sword.

  Then some hissings from near my feet got my attention.

  It was two grungy tatty littlepoors, a guy and girl.

  He clutched the Pocketpitbull still in its shrinkwrap, she waved a packet of bullets at me, on the grass next to them lay a handbomb just for kicks.

  “Happy birthday,” yelled the guy.

  “Thanks for saving us from that freaking cat,” yelled the girl.

  Step Two, I found Fillup in Drivy Garage, the former faceboy with the bullfists, thankgod Drivy Track makes kids get up super early.

  “Fillup, you said you’d have my back, well the time has come, I need to find Shoulderheads,” I told him.

  “Hmm, I’m recommending you don’t find Shoulderheads,” advised Fillup.

  I showed him my gun, also my bomb.

  “Dang,” said Fillup.

  “Guns and bombs must be concealed, please,” loudly reminded Drivy Teacher.

  “How about you get some drivy practice and drive me to Shoulderheads,” I suggested.

  “I don’t even know where he lives,” protested Fillup.

  “Actually what I need to know is where faceboys are prisoning my friend,” I said. “I think it’s on the Sand Dreamough reservewar.”

  “Ohsnap,” said Fillup. “The Sitadell.”

  The Sitadell was just a boring warehouse, crouching behind a dense halfscale neighborhood for blocks and blocks with no doubleroads.

  So no access for Markfive’s doublecar, he had to park twomiles away and wait.

  “I’ll be out soon, dave, don’t worry, I’ll sprint,” I promised him, kissed fists, hopped into Fillup’s little clanker.

  Fillup drove me close to the boring warehouse, never would have guessed it was a faceboy hangout, except I guess for the trendy doorsign of FACEBOY INDUSTRIES.

  “It’s a multiuse squadspace, great for prisoning, cook drugs, repair vehicles, you get the idea,” Fillup explained.

  “Well great, hey, got any desire to give me some backup, maybe atleast wait around the corner and drive getaway,” I asked him.

  “Oh heckno,” he said, oneeightying outofthere, kid can drive allright.

  Okay, Warner, let’s rescue Usher completely alone with no backup at all, hmmm, how are we going to do this.

  I did some medium creeping and strolling around the Sitadell, trying to stay out of sight, look for ways in. Frontdoors, fireescapes, loadingdocks, windows.

  Faceboy gunmen chilled on the roof and peered at me a little curious, a little bored.

  Okay, brain, I thought to my brain. I’m going to need a clever plan out of you soon, otherwise it’s another episode of Smashandgrab With Your Host, Dumb Warner.

  Okay okay, said my brain. Let’s see. Give me a minute here.

  Do you want some help, I thought to the brain.

  Just give me a second please, said my brain.

  Okay but one thing I was realizing is, you got a bunch of math in there, what if you made a plan out of all that math, I thought to the brain.

  Can you just shut up for even a second, said my brain.

  Sure sure, just trying to help, I thought.

  Great, stop thinking so I can think, said my brain.

  Wait how do I stop thinking and let you think, I mean I’m basically you, I realized.

  We went like that for a while, eventually got to a pretty dumb combo of smashandgrab with three small clevernesses.

  First Small Cleverness, disguise yourself. Take off your shirt, tie it around your hair like a goofball, get some smudgy coal, and draw a stupid face on your chest, then atleast from faraway you’ll look like a faceboy, maybe closeup too if everyone’s distracted by the crazy mayhem from Second Small Cleverness.

  Second Small Cleverness, create the crazy mayhem in the opposite place of where you actually want to be, eye ee, toss a bomb at the loadingdock in front but meanwhile run up the fireescape out back on the reservewar side.

  Because Third Small Cleverness, reservewar side is where you want to go, remember the view from the dream, Usher’s in a room with a window looking out onto the big driedup dustbowl.

  This stupid plan actually worked pretty good, probably just out of dumbluck. I jogged into
a middlepoor house to swipe coal, got shrieked at, pretended like oops, wrong house. Jogged into another house, family was backyarding and didn’t see me, swiped a little coal from the stove. Back outside, hid my sweet hoodie under a bush, shirtwrapped my hair, and quickly drew a sharkface on my stomach, pretty crude and bad but whocares. Breathed deep and cool and headed back to the Sitadell super casual like, don’t you remember me, boys, it’s your old pal, Sharktum the Halfnaked Faceboy.

  Surenough, roof gunmen waved at me all bored, I waved back chill and wordless, they looked at their phones. Really smooth behindtheback I lobbed my handbomb at the loadingdock door, jogged around the side of the Sitadell, got to the reservewar side when I heard the boom, ground shuddered under me. Raced up the fireescape, opened the door, stepped in, alarms were going off, faceboys were running around with faces of hey what the heck, and nobody was looking at me like who’s this jerk because I was also running around making a concerned face of hey what the heck, who’s the maniac who’s attacking us faceboys, how about we all do our jobs and defend the homebase, okay great.

  Checked a room, faceboys and tramps were wrapping cash in there.

  Another room, empty.

  Another one, empty with bloodstains.

  Another one, two faceboys on computers, type type typing and sniffling from dust.

  Corner room, tables, cabinets, Shoulderheads, Usher.

  Two years since I’ve seen them, now Usher is a little rat on a tabletop and Shoulderheads is just another Liftylooking guy my scale, swollen with ink and muscle but not any bigger than me, eyes a little more tired and hungry.

  They didn’t look up at me, even when I shut the door behind myself, crossed to behind the table, put the gun’s nose in the big goon’s spine. Instead Shoulderheads reached behind without looking and shoved me into a wall, must have thought I was some rando facekid having a goof.

  “Stop with that crap, kid,” said Shoulderheads. “No games right now. Get downstairs where they need you.”

  Puny ratscale Usher was crouched on some texty documents, drawing lines through words with a pen, Shoulderheads stared and whispered.

  Okay fine, I thought, I guess I’m a rando facekid now.