Station 9 3/4: Xoteria

You have arrived at your destination

  Moscow this winter is more beautiful than it ever has been. The Moscow Metro dates as far back as the Russian Empire and was constructed by the unforgiveness of war. Across the centuries, the mosaics and marble floors have been weathered by communism and plastered with workers, peasants, and soldiers. All of them with a hope. Hope for salvation. People need hope to keep going–a canvas where one can swim in the paint towards the edge of the cliff and see the world with their heart. Take it and use it as a reference point on a pilgrimage towards the happiest and saddest days of their lives. 

After our mining expenditure back in the mountains, we salvaged enough points to find a train here. The rules of the game allowed us to sleep in train capsules overnight which we made sure we exploited. The terminal has a gallery connected beneath us which is important too. After waking up and getting off the train at 7 am, we had some breakfast before we were officially allowed to continue challenges from 8 onwards. I managed to ballot the tickets such that we can access them half an hour from now. With a shopping list of art supplies and a man who is half awake, I gave AL a kick up the boot and he went off to the nearest art shop. In the meantime, me and Chloé joined a line outside the entrance of the gallery. 

“Did you see, another cartel wants to wage a war.”

“Oh. Let them run into the fires with their ticking time bombs and watch the rainbow. I’m too tired to think about it.”

“Who do you think will win?” I ask. 

“Does whoever is victorious get to change the color of the earth a thousand years from now?” 

She seems to be busy doing something with her eye screen so I stop waffling. AL comes back with a sack of painting instruments, paint, and reusable canvas When a guard sinks his flashlight into our bags and scans our faces, he is slightly put off by the painting materials but admits us into the black and white fish bowl. Once we find something, we have fifteen minutes to trial and error a perfect copy of any painting in here. For a moment, I was lost in admiration and forgot why I was here before I saw a simple abstract painting with the required portrait facing forward. Using my paint and pooling together whatever high school knowledge I gathered from my art lessons, the canvas became a representation of a show and tell for the ember irises of a Ukrainian mother. Through them, I could see the wheat fields. A little boy in his mother’s arms was crying from the sounds of guns and autocracy. 

With AL’s and Chloé respective efforts, we sent photos of our imitations to The Circle. In return, he came back with seventy percent of the possible coins and a message at the bottom of the transfer. “Outstanding.” That could be interpreted as outstandingly good, bad, or something else. We went back to the station and found a vending machine cooking instant pasta and pizzas, from which we ordered carbonara and self-proclaimed New York pepperoni. An infographic was lecturing the use of softer water that fluffs the thin, crispy crust, persuading both of us to put theory to the test. 

As the machine jingled and we were about to take out our food, our phones did so too like an unorthodox orchestra. Chloé read out the instructions: 

Cursed: Don’t use your phone

Instructions

(1) Collect 4 challenge cards 

(2) Deactivate your eye-screens or turn them to low power mode

(3) Use only the challenge app and nothing else

(4) You may not change your eye and phone settings unless told otherwise

(5) You may not use anyone else’s phone

(6) Awarded: 4000 coins

Art is not truth, it is a lie that gives us truth - Pablo Picasso

It didn’t mention who had cursed us. And it is still liveable without them, that’s not a doubt. Though it’s borderline inconvenient in this day and age. Holding onto the promise that there is no danger involved, we did as we were told. The other teams could be anywhere. Why did the curse also feel the need to use a quote from an artist? 

We didn’t need to complete all the challenges, but we did some anyway to throw curses at the opposing teams. Carrying on with the theme of art, we painted each other’s faces, took photos of the top five landmarks in the city(according to the card), and made a fake speech to run for prime minister. 

With enough coins, we redeem a train to Saint Petersburg which is a two hour ride. As I was boarding the train, I realized something: We don’t know what and where the endpoint is. From the beginning, he told us that we would know when we got there. There is one challenge left which should see us through to the end: 

Capture a selfie with a national politician on camera

(1) Find someone who is associated with any party state in your respective region

(2) You must ask for permission to take the selfie with them

(3) Everyone has to be in the photo

(4) Reward: 1200 

(5) Budget: NIL

At this rate, without access to the internet, it’s a game of who’s who. We can only figure it out when we get there. Staring out the window, I watch the black and white facades of snow covered art turn into a barren wasteland and I’m lost in thought once more. 

Somewhere in a world only I know, there is a vast expanse of whiteness. And I’m sitting down. Not on any floor in particular. Just sitting. As a concept. Next to me, a man in a white robe tells me about the branches and vines. “No branches can bear a fruit by itself, it must remain in the vine. I am a branch; he is a vine. If I remain in him, I will bear fruit. If I do not remain, I’m a branch that is thrown away and withers; such are the branches that are picked up, thrown into a fire, and burned. 

I try to picture what these trees are like: Their branches can still be wooden, but the apples can be colored cubes. They could be Red, Green, Blue, Purple even. These apples would also defy gravity in that they could drop in any direction they chose. Give the apples the liberty of choice too. 

A womanly hand taps me from behind and I turn. “If we alight one stop earlier, we can get on a metro line to City Hall which by right holds the government district,” Chloé suggests. Personally, I felt that we could transition to our final destination faster if we went all the way, but my instinct was telling me to agree with them. We alighted prematurely and swapped trains. We told The Circle as well of our change and he responded with an out-of-context smiley face. 

For as famous as Russia is for its architecture, The ROW is the Magnum Opus of them all. It looked like a stack-up of giant colorful blocks and a cross-over between neo-brutalism and parametric design. It took the dystopia of a walled city and multiplied it with all that humans would ever need, which could now be found in this modular megacity. 

As we exit the train, There are two giant vertical blocks. Each one formed a line of adjacent buildings that stretched several kilometers backward and forwards, creating a zero gravity space in between for sun the sun to rain down on the mosaic of solar panels. And right below that is our train which bisected them. Every place tries to advertise itself, and they made this one made sure that everyone could see the plaque at the entrance of the station telling the date it was conceived and its birthday. Starting from the bottom, we stuck together as a digital-less unit and made our way along the endless corridor, at the same time, getting pulled to the lush greenery hanging from the vertical gardens which painted me in forest colors as well. The colors on the concrete wall were painted soft and yet felt raw and solid only in its appearance to the eyes. 

No one looks like they are ready to serve their country. After seven levels and looking at either side of the building, there was no one worthy of our speculative honor. Who knows where the other teams are either? We roughly threw more curses than we received across the five days before the trackers turned off as part of the curse. 

Instead of playing the role of the seeker like AL and Chloé, I began to play hiding with my eyes, letting distractions reveal my attachments to the world. It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet with a complex web of skybridges. As I crossed one connector between the lines, there was a Broadwalk surrounded by an artificial riverway. Looking through the glass floors, I watch as fishes swim over tiny trains dozens of meters below. High above the clouds fly without wings, probably tired from circumventing the earth, and so they exhale to refresh the lungs with clean air. 

The two of them are beginning to tense up. Wherever we walked, there were only people dressed in everyday casual, making it impossible to recognize who was the right person to photograph. And based on past experiences with interfering with people’s lives, I was not interested in trying my luck. The last curse is basically the final nail in the coffin hence I stopped chasing. 

With a random throw of the dice, we elevate to the nineteenth floor of the Southern block. There’s a room with metal popup letters spelling the National Archive Centre. Any higher up and we would have reached the residentials. 

There’s a man in a suit standing at the center of a room with text posters. AL stopped and pointed into the surrealist room. He asked us to look at the tie. The pale purple and orange slashing diagonally from left to right are too unorthodox to be used for conventional presentations. 

“The tie is the same color as the party,” AL said

Looking at me like a mental patient scarred from past trauma, he says he’ll do the honors and follow behind him. The man is now looking directly at us. 

“Hey there, pardon us, but which ministry are you from? It’s a privilege to meet a member of parliament here.”

“You're tourists I see. Welcome to Russia. I’m the current district representative for this part of St Petersburg, so to answer your question, well yes. You can just call me Sirotkin. I’m supposed to go for a meeting so unfortunately I’m dressed up.”

He insists that he still has some spare time and offers to take us on a little tour of the place. Embarrassed by our naivety, me and Chloé look at AL who stutters for a second. 

“We noticed the tie you were wearing and thought oh you might be someone important.” 

“Actually, would you mind if we took a selfie with you?”

“Why sure.” 

Putting on my politically politest smile, we stand two by two in front of the phone and finished our tasking. 

“Thank you so–” Before AL could finish, the photo reached The Circle and he messaged instantly.

Action: Get on the train immediately

“I believe this is what you’re looking for.” 

Sirotkin opens a door next to the painting, revealing a concrete platform and a train within. I wanted to ask him how but couldn’t bring out the words.

“Don’t worry, this is the way to victory. You passed the first hurdle first.” 

Like the master of his sheep, we obediently flocked through the door and onto the rolling stock that formed out of thin air. It is a basic train with empty carriages and open seats. It's definitely more simple compared to the trains we have been taking this entire time. A click chimes from behind and before I can catch one last glimpse of him, we are sent speeding away. 

“Is this part of the game?” 

“It cannot not be,” Chloé said. 

“Where are we going? There is no dashboard saying where to.” 

“Was he part of the game?” 

“Was he even a politician?” 

“He was someone.” 

The windows are filled by the absence of light meaning we’re probably in a tunnel. We are left vulnerable to a plot that doesn’t make sense anymore, and questions that will never be answered. I’m thinking of how to defend myself and I’m sure they are thinking the same. We all have to.

A few moments later, the PA system finally gave the train a new voice of life. 

“You have arrived at your destination. Next stop. Xoteria” 

I feel the soles of my sneakers opposing the deceleration as momentum causes me to lean forward. I looked out the window and waited for the boxes of black until finally at the last possible metre, a singular white room appeared through the train door. Black outlines confined the space of the room and gave it dimension. 

Now outside the train, another voice came. Except it wasn’t a voice. Voices need to have sound but there wasn’t any. A thought that is not my own begins running through my mind without permission. Unprompted, my reasoning takes a step back and pictures a black and white film of a toy steamboat sailing to the center of my imaginary screen.  It’s coming forward closer and closer until I’m on deck. 

This is the voice you will follow to victory. Listen and complete the last puzzles. Do not follow anyone else except me. The instructions you get will be different from others. 

Looking at AL and Chloé, they appear to be deep in conversation with their voices as well. 

Go forward and make a right turn.

The second it says that, AL turns to look at me and I understand everything from his stare. He wishes me good luck and turns left instead. Chloé does the same down the middle and I make my right. 

Do you know about non-euclidean geometry?  No? Well now you will. Enter the next room and walk through the corridor. Don’t question it. Believe in it

I open the black door only to be met with another door on the opposing end. There is a single lane separating one unknown from the other. As I walked, I began to lose time and was making minimal progress until the voice returned. 

Try walking on the left. 

Now hugging the left wall, I try walking again and each step is significantly larger than before. In less than a dozen steps I reached it. 

Now you understand non-euclidean geometry. Play with physics and get through the other four doors and the prize is yours. Don’t question it. Believe in it.

In the next challenge, I tested several flights of stairs and climbed back down to find myself in a completely different space. Gambling around with the different stairs, I randomized my movement before finally finding the next door. 

In this room, there were several cubes. From the front, it was a blank colored wall. Only after walking across the rows of cubes and turning back did I realize certain sides offered an interior space(even though the wall was thinner than paper when looked at from the sides). There is an element of fear as I put my hand on the chest inside the cube. Bunched together were several keys inside that I tried and tested with several crates. The keys unlocked the door, opening up to another door that demanded a different set of keys. I did this three times and then saw a room with a two meter drop down. A number was painted in black at the bottom of the drop.

Jump down. Nothing will hurt you. Don’t question it. Believe in it. 

Lowering myself to sit on the edge, I slide myself and free-fall against the cool air momentarily before landing on the floor’s belly. He is right. Upon impact, I could feel the deceleration yet my thighs refused to squish under pressure. They simply landed on the floor. The same happened when I dropped from one floor to the next. After learning how to fall, there came a series of drops. Each channel had a different number painted on it. 

After one was two, then eight, then six, then one, then five, then one. I continued to drop and kept seeing one again. I became a can in a vending machine, rolling down an infinite number of pipes in the hope it would finally be delivered to its buyer. Thinking that there was a puzzle code behind this, it’s no wonder I keep seeing the one repeat itself. 

Good thinking. There’s a ten-number code you need to follow. Each time it’s wrong you reset it. Don’t question it. Believe in it. 

That makes sense now. I tried to be clever by remembering a left and right sequence. Only to be fooled by The Circle or whoever that mixed up the numbers on either side each time. I had to assign each finger to a number. At the last drop, there wasn’t any drop zone anymore, just a straight path with a right turn. 

This is the last one. Just keep turning. Don’t question it. Believe in it. 

And I really believed it. I wanted to believe it. Believe the thoughts in my head that made me schizophrenic. Maybe because it’s real. I can see and touch the chilled walls of the enclosed container space.  I can believe in something I’m not supposed to. Why question the concept of space when I can make my own?  

For the first time in the entire game, I ran. I sprinted as though I would never be able to run again. Get out of the way. An underground is going at the speed of sound. I made the right turn which led me to another right turn which made another right turn. I tried retracing my steps to the previous turn but it was just as it was before. I looked everywhere inside my made up fishbowl of a maze. I was walking in circles without making a whole. I counted the steps on each side and it was the same. 

What if I make a right turn one hundred and eighty degrees? Walking two turns backward, there was a new right turn formed from my point of view which was backward. I couldn’t make it out until I crossed the junction and saw the outline of the corners disappear. At the end, there was an opening of fluorescent colors.

As I stand at the door, I observe the live colors swirling about in this vertical pool that fits my height precisely. Dipping my index finger inside, I feel a ring of even cooler mist brush around my finger. Looking inside, there’s a single ember cloud hovering about the evening sky, it is connected by a stem towards the foot of the platform. Letting my feet onto the leafy floor, it sinks a little as I weigh myself onto the floating platform. Below that sky tree, a figure is holding a branch five times its size to canoe the giant leaf in the air. There was nothing beyond the edge. 

Coming closer, I see it’s wearing a tin foil hoodie with the hood taken down. But there is no face–a silhouette of a woman and her ponytail but no skin–just a shadow of empty space. She turns towards me. We’re two steps apart. 

“Welcome on board.” She says

“Is this the endgame? Did I win”

“Mhm. Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I’m taking you somewhere. “

I asked her where is the prize money and if we were going back to the station.

“That’s for you to decide. AL and Chloé will get their share of the prize money. But as the fastest one, I figured I would give you a special invitation. What do you think about controlling the world?”

She looks at my puzzled face and tries to re-piece my understanding back: “Tokimori. We are going to the gates of a construction site where you can build the world you want to see. Think of each life as a series of blocks, and someone is the construction crane. Each layer of bricks represents a year of your life. No two bricks are the same and neither is the cement, and although a crane will eventually run out of use, it would hopefully have left something behind that can stand on its own.  There’s a reality out there whose fabric is unraveling and a metaphysical tapestry that weaves together all that exists. You’ll get to choose all that is to be done and will be done.”

“I’m magically being given the power to change the very world I live in because I won a game of life. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“You won’t be living there anymore. Unless, you can always decline and go back to where you came from, and you’ll live like a king. But you already rested for so long that don’t you think it’s nice to rest forever? Your coma wasn’t a mistake. We needed to see you catch yourself. Why you were chosen is a matter that cannot be explained. So to answer your question, yes, it’s magically fallen onto your lap.”

I try to ask how this authority of the world works but was canceled. “‘Hows’ will only be revealed to you once you say yes.”

“Why do I not deserve to understand. I am not your test dummy playing your simulations. I can see you from the screen.” 

“And still you played our show. We can’t feed you with too much otherwise you overweigh. That’s why you cannot question it. You got to believe it.”

“If that was the case, you shouldn’t need to tell me anything at all,” I tell her.

“You’re the only one I can tell.” 

She continues “Nothing is forcing you to carry on I promise on my life. We are approaching very soon, so you have to make your choice. Go back as a millionaire or come to see the truth of beauty and the beauty of truth?”

I look at the faceless silhouette. I look across the leaf I’m on and see the night view of a place I don’t know. What does it profit a man if he gains the world but loses his soul? I remember a quote from someone but I can’t remember who. Opportunities are like trains. Once you miss one, it will never come again.