Several months ago, my Bahasa Indonesia class assignment was to write a short story (cerpen). This was what I came up with in three or so weeks. Originally in Indonesian and translated as an exercise for my SGU creative writing competition. Some amount of influence comes from Sword Art Online and Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso, two shows I was watching at the time.
Gaze the Sky
By Nathan Hartanto
To create is the essence of life. So was written by a Roman, who since long only his withered bones remain. Who his name was, Leo have already forgotten, even though he just closed his eleventh-grade world history textbook and stuffed it inside his bag. Everything were forgotten with the ring of the bell, including the sleepiness during the whole time the boring old history teacher lectured, because after the bell has rung, there is freedom.
Except for that one sentence. Why? He did not understand. Was it because it was poetic? Surely not. There was something, something buried for long, inside him which was talking.
The dry smell of dust and wood. Piercing eyes, watching. His clothes soaking from perspiration.
He shook his head. Why must he remember that event? Leo stood from his seat and slung his bag. He scanned his surroundings. In the class, there were only several students left at the very back, doing some form of project, whatever it was—even if that project was given during the world history lesson just then, that memory had already flown away with the ring of the bell. Even if that project was due at Monday, usually only at Sunday he started it. The end of a Friday should always only be filled by releasing the stress built up during the week, as if he already sworn to do so.
Usually, in the end of a Friday such as this he was one of the people to first exit the class as the bell rung. How long had he sat there, thinking? No one woke him up from his daydream. Sure, there was nobody in the class he could call as a “friend.” Sighing, he strode outside, to an already empty corridor.
Leo was late for the bus. School ends at half past three, then usually he walked to the bus stop and used the bus at three and three-quarters. However, due to his mind that flew away back then, he needed to wait another fifteen minutes.
There were no school buses heading to his home, as there should only a handful of students living near there—maybe even only he, himself. Maybe that was also why he didn’t have many friends. As the other students hang out together on weekends, going to the mall or somewhere else, he only has one way to freshen up, alone in his house.
He disembarked in front of his complex, then strolled lightning-fast to his home, a small house beside a small street. He opened his door’s key and twisted the knob, pushing the door to dimness. There was nobody home. His mom was out for a business trip, while his dad indeed always went home late each weekday.
Closing the door behind him, quickly he ran to his room at the second floor. Inside, the blinds were closed shut and there was not a ray of light that enlightened the room. But he did not need light to do something he remembered like the back of his hand.
He didn’t have to lock the door. When dad arrives home, he already knew not to disturb his son until the next morning. As usual, Leo felt his way to the end of his table, and clicked a button. Almost instantly, his room was bathed in the light of three monitors, arranged side-by-side. He sat facing them, in a simple but comfortable chair, and covered his ears with headphones. Thus, he severed all connection with the outside world. His world was not the boring lessons, all puzzling tests which will determine the unknowable, constantly flowing future. No, his world was the three monitors in front of him right the moment.
Not long after, he opened his online game. He needed not to command his fingers, which danced over the keyboard, inputting his character name and password. He was left waiting after the OK button was pressed, as the world in front of him was painted slowly: from the green mountains all the way over there, trees with each of their leaves flowing with the wind, the dusty dirt path under the character’s feet, and medieval-styled buildings to each side of the street. The small village was filled with people, both living characters like himself, or program-controlled shopkeepers and other people.
Leo moved his character. In this world, he was not an average eleventh-grader with average looks and average achievements. Here, he was a warrior, a knight in shining armor. Here, people looked up to him as one of the greatest players, unlike in the ‘real’ world where he was only an average player whose name never appeared as someone who achieved something.
How can I, after the disaster I made ages ago? That memory again. Enough!
He looked up. He gazed the sky which was not more than codes and program—as were the case with the mountains, trees and their leaves, dirt road, medieval buildings, shopkeepers, even his own character and the other players’—which seemed so real. This is his world, not some other world where his body sat now, going through each monotone day without purpose at school.
Here, in this world, he knew his purpose. Is that so?
SLASH!
That was the sound Leo’s sword made as it cut through a bandit, which dematerialized into thousands of colorful polygons as he died. Usually he loved the sound; the exciting sound of battle made by a studio somewhere and replayed as the program commanded. Usually the sound stimulates the adrenaline, however this time that memory haunted him, distracting. Words caught in his throat. He couldn’t say anything intelligible.
He sheathed his sword, a high-level magical one. He was not at all a newbie in this world, if only at the time his mind was completely in the zone. His life, which could be seen in the top-right of his field of vision, had decreased almost two-thirds in the fight with the five bandits, which shouldn’t have been much of a challenge at all.
Here, he destroys, but haven’t he heard that to create is the essence of life?
Suddenly he noticed something. Huh, he thought, Weren’t there eight of them?
“Leo!”
He turned to the voice of the boy, which he could hear clearly through the headphones. It could be nobody else, the character standing before him now is none other than Rob, his neighbor, his old friend from primary school until Leo moved for secondary. He didn’t know what to say; that particular friend also stirred up unwanted memories. Why should I meet him now? He forced himself to give a little laugh. “So, that’s why there were five bandits left,” he said through the microphone.
“Hey, hey, we were taught to share! Why should only you get all the fun?”
Rob laughed and started to run, followed by Leo, wordless. They ran side-by-side, across the little path beside the little stream that ran along with them, into a forest not far from there. Yesterday they have agreed to hunt at the place.
Then Rob’s character suddenly stopped, then he asked, “By the way, what’s up? We agreed to meet fifteen minutes earlier, didn’t we?”
Leo was still silent, unsure what to answer. He tentatively started, “Back at school I taught about something…”
He could hear Rob’s sneer, trying furiously to cover a laugh, before settling back to seriousness as he understood that his friend wasn’t trying to make a joke. “Hey man, what’s up? You seem very different today. Much quieter.”
Leo didn’t know how to answer. In the moment where he should shine, he couldn’t say a thing. “Remember when we were in sixth grade?”
From his voice, Rob must’ve been surprised. “Wasn’t that when you…”
“Yes.”
Now Rob was the one being silent. Seeing that Leo didn’t continue his explanation, his game character nodded. “Oh well, no matter. Let’s move!”
Still absorbed with his thoughts, Leo followed suit.
While he never entered a forest, he just knew that the forest he entered must be close to the real thing, with leaves dancing in the howling wind, the rays of sunlight peeking through gaps in the foliage, and cheerful chirps of birds everywhere. Very tranquil, at least for now.
“There it is!” exclaimed Rob, as he saw the giant shadow between the trees. Leo saw it as well. The shadow moved as they inched closer, accompanied by thunderous, ground-shaking footsteps.
Then the owner of said shadow appeared: a high-level giant, with a body eight times of that of a player’s, its head a chimera of a dozen apex predators. Its claws were held high, ready to strike. There couldn’t have been any mistake—this is indeed the rumored monster boss-class enemy, which they were hunting.
Without much thought, Leo unsheathed his blade, then charged.
“Leo, wait!” came the yell from his friend. But he didn’t care. He must do this, simply must, venting his stress and frustration from after school. Isn’t this the real world, where he really felt alive?
But do you really live here? Something in his mind called out, forcing its way out after so long. In the middle of his attack, his eyes blinked.
Why?
Slowly, his mind flew, taking him somewhere with it. It flew to the far past, somewhere hidden since long in the far reaches of his mind. Something he would have always liked to forget. His mind landed at the certain dry smell of dust and wood above the stage. The piercing gaze of the judges. Yes, this is indeed the memory of one fateful science competition which he forced himself to forget since five years ago.
He already prepared everything to utmost perfection. He knew what to present. However, he started to break a sweat. Why? He remembered, it was Rob that walked, proudly, beside him as the very dedicated partner on the project. What was his project? No, he wasn’t ready to remember it now. One thing he did unfortunately remember, that project was paraded throughout his school as an enlightenment, so there he was, at the prestigious competition where thousands from throughout the nation gathered for a medal.
His name has been called. His feet echoed as he stepped over the stage, in sync with his ever-amplifying heartbeats. He stopped in front of his project, that cursed machine. He knew that Rob was beside him, and will talk his part smoothly. He, himself knew that to speak. What he will speak, will determine whether he will win or lose, his future.
But, the gaze of the five judges watching him, was as sharp as his magic sword. The sword that will butcher his success. He felt it again, the cold sweat all over his body. It flowed like a river, which swept the neatly arranged words prepared in his head. Why?
The bell that sounded the start of the presentation rang, the shrill pounding his head, breaking what remained of his comprehensive mind, the same thing like the Friday bell that made him forget world history. “Good morning,” he should’ve started speaking, but he froze there, looking at his shoes. Maybe time froze as well.
He sparsely remembered how the judges commented, sniggered, as Rob manged to convince him to open his mouth by calling out, “Leo!” But even then, he must’ve presented in a stutter, without anybody understanding.
Why? Why is he so satisfied with himself? After the competition, his desire to create was completely extinguished. He was satisfied with the average, which will not be remembered by anyone, even by himself. He lived without a goal, except for a false dream inside an online game.
He thought—no, lied to himself, it was probably better that he was forgotten forever, rather than to make a fool of himself once more on a stage.
But still, why should he be satisfied? Didn’t he just hear, that to create is the essence of life? Why is he satisfied with average, satisfied with such a mundane standard?
Because I am scared. Scared to not be able to speak on my moment.
Leo shook his head. He just noticed that his character was in the verge of death, because it seemed that his flurry missed, giving the chance for that beast to get back at him, attacking with one great sweep of the claw.
The monster was still in front of him, its eyes flashing bright red full of programmed hate. Not long, it will surely resume its attack. Leo prepared once more, lifting his sword.
But suddenly, somewhere, was the voice of Rob, which called to him. “Leo!” he said, with the voice of concern, trying to convince him to act.
Like then.
He remembered once more, the efforts Rob made to convince him to talk, calling his name as his part came to explain. He was indeed still fully conscious, however it seemed like he was drowning, drowning in the dark depths of cowardice, not able to do anything as he waited for his fate.
But even then, in what remained of his consciousness to the outside world, somehow he managed to record Rob’s actions. He continued to present his part without a hitch, then tried to make Leo produce words as he helped explain some of Leo’s slides. He knew, and Rob must’ve known as well, that there will not be any chance for them to win because of his own blunder.
From that time on, he swore never to embarrass himself anymore.
For what reason do I try?
From that time on, he closed his books at home.
I won’t get anything if I embarrass myself and my friend.
From that time on, he delved into another world, a world where he could pretend to be brave.
Then he remembered something, something which since long had also been hidden in his mind, something he wanted to forget from embarrassment and regret. For what reason do I try? The question was already answered by Rob himself after the one and only competition they went to together, which they didn’t won. “There’s no matter in trying,” Rob’s words five years ago echoed in his mind, “While I did know that we’ll never win, while I myself am afraid, there’s no matter in trying to change the world with our machine!”
Leo didn’t know why did his good friend’s advice, his only good friend since ages ago, could escape his memory. Perhaps that was entirely his fault, he himself in his shame and fear to present for a second time. Since then, he lost his passion to keep learning, to create.
Yes, probably he’ll never change the world. Perhaps he’ll never be as brave as Rob that charges in with the presentation while they shall never win because of his fault. At the very least, he should try, if not for himself, then for Rob that had always been his friend, his only good friend since childhood, who followed him to this world in a game as he knew that he was his only friend. Because to create is the essence of life.
“Leo!”
His eyes opened again from his thoughts. The beast was right in front of him, its vast arms raised, ready to flatten him against the ground. His life is in the red zone, nearing his death. He still hasn’t moved from his earlier position, and now it is too late. Unable to escape what is about to happen, he faced Rob.
“You’re right, Rob, five years ago,” Leo said to Rob who was unmoving behind the monster. “Maybe I need to study first.” He sheathed his sword. “Thanks,” he said, as the claws of the monster slammed into him. His character faded into thousands of little polygons.
In the house across the street, Rob must be smiling. His old friend has returned.
That very night, Leo shut his computer down. Usually, only after midnight the three monitors shone his room with the blinding light.
He peeked through the blinds. A night sky, with a crescent moon hanging high along with a handful of twinkling stars. This is indeed not the same sky as the one he just saw in the flat screen. No, this is the real world, the world where he was once embarrassed on the stage, the world where he was only a student. A student which could do many things if he would like to.
To create is the essence of life. Yes, he remembered that. A quote from a Roman that changed the world. Outside, the sky is the same as the one that Roman saw millennia ago. The sky above the world he changed, the world which Leo could change too now.
That night, for the first time in almost five years, he opened his notebook on a Friday.
Created for “Projek Kumpulan Cerpen Bahasa Indonesia”
Jakarta, 24 November 2015
Translated to English
Serpong, 5 November 2015
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