Chapter 6: Horace
1298 Words
Chapter 6: Horace
Horace had enough for one day. Getting fired, meeting with weird women, confronting not one but two scary people, not to mention the heat. He was panting and sweaty and the front door to his apartment building seemed like an oasis.
Sure, he was unemployed now. But that was a problem for later.
He walked up the stairs, it was only the first floor and he didn’t wanna wait for the elevator. He fumbled with the box, again, found his keys and got inside.
His apartment was big, too big for a bachelor living alone. Of course, he could never afford it on his own. It was his parents’ house, the one he grew up in. His parents had gone to visit some family in Australia for a prolonged summer in the winter, since seasons are swapped there, and decided to stay.
No really, they went there, loved the place, said, ‘What the heck, we’re retired anyway,’ and asked him to ship off some of their belongings to them.
So he was left alone in a three-bedroom apartment in northern Athens. The area was called Kifisia and it was one of the prominent ones, but it was way too far away for the daily commute down to central Athens. The mass transit was frequent but as with everything in Greece, you couldn’t really rely on it to be on time. Horace usually spent at least one hour, maybe an hour and a half back and forth every day. And that was on the days with proper service, because the frequent strikes by the bus or the metro drivers were creating new and exciting obstacles for him to overcome.
That was Greece for you.
He put the box down which had soaked sweat from his wrists where he held it. He kicked off his shoes, a habit from a lifetime of having his mother drill good manners into him. And he went straight for the kitchen, poured a cool glass of water and downed it all. In the same motion while chugging water, he spread his arm to unlatch the window and let some of the afternoon breeze in.
He found it open.
Had he forgotten it? That was stupid, Horace. The apartment was old but burglaries were pretty common around these parts, and couldn’t afford the fancy home alarm system.
Shrugging and making a mental note to check the balconies and the windows before going out, he opened the fridge. The chilly air felt nice on his cheek.
“There’s no more lemonade. You should go for another grocery run,” a tired voice said from the living room.
Horace nodded in agreement.
Then he froze in shock, because he remembered he lived alone.
He turned towards the living room and walked like a cat, stepping softly with his socks. He looked around for something he could use as a weapon. He had an ornamental dagger from some old videogame. It was flimsy, but the burglar didn’t know that. Putting one foot in front of another, he carefully approached the living room and peeked inside.
The TV was on. Indeed, cans of lemonade were thrown all over the place.
Someone was sitting on his sofa.
A female someone.
He looked behind him, then tension lifted from his shoulders. Putting his back towards the wall so he couldn’t be surprised by anyone else who might be inside, he walked in the living room carrying a fantasy dagger.
“Who the f**k are you?” he squeaked, a lot higher in pitch than he’d like. He cleared his throat and repeated the question deeply, like a man. “I mean, who are you?”
The woman turned slowly to him. She had droopy eyelids, she looked like he had interrupted her nap. How rude of him. She wore light blue pyjamas that had lumps of thread from the excessive use. They looked comfy and soft, and Horace was certain Evie would like them. She had a blanket on her feet and was sitting comfortably, coiled on his sofa. She was platinum blonde, and very thin. Her motions were veeery slooow, and her voice sounded faraway, like Luna’s from the Harry Potter movies. “Hello Horace. I’m Acedia. Nice to meet you,” she said and smiled slowly at him.
Horace realised he was threatening a skinny girl with a knife, so he pointed it away. But she had after all broken into his home. He then noticed the light blue travel bag next to her. “Yes, nice to meet you, Acedia, whatever. Why are you in my house?”
“I’m going to live here with you,” she said matter-of-factly.
“What?”
“Oh, excuse me, sometimes I speak too softly. I said, I’m-”
“No, I heard you. I said ‘what’ as in ‘why?’”
“Oh, wow. It’s part of the Terms of Service you agreed to.” She slowly turned to the TV, as if the matter was resolved.
Horace dropped the dagger on the coffee table and walked between her and the TV. “What terms are those?”
“Horace,” she tsked slowly three times, “you really should read those things. You never know what you might have agreed to.”
“You mean that app?” he asked, frantic, looking for his phone in his pocket.
“Yes!” she said with the minute excitement her eyes could muster.
He found the app and went through the terms of service, scrolling wildly.
“Let me help you with that. It says that the mortal, from hereon named user, agrees to provide lodging and all necessary amenities in exchange for guidance.”
“What sort of guidance is that?”
She chortled slowly. Then she stood up and it was like watching a glacier come towards you. When she finally closed the distance, she touched his temple with her bony finger. “Thought guidance, of course.”
Her eyes were light blue and he lost his train of thought for a minute as he felt her presence so close to him. The Acedia slowly walked back to her spot and made herself comfortable.
On. His. Sofa.
“Look, lady, I don’t know what sort of prank you and the other ladies are pulling here…”
“No prank. I’m staying. Now scoot over, I’m watching this show and the remote is too far away for me to rewind it.”
Horace stepped aside, then looked at the remote. Then at her. Then at the remote, again. It was right next to her.
Right. Next. To her.
He snapped. “What are you talking about? It’s right there! The f*****g remote is right there! Just move your hand, what, five, six centimetres?”
Acedia turned her eyes at the remote and stared at it longingly. Then she sighed a deep sigh of surrender, of defeat. Of laziness.
Horace threw his arms up in the air. “Oh for f**k’s sake!” he said and walked around the coffee table, picked up the remote, and placed it just a few centimetres away right into her palm.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Wow. Thank you, dear.”
The app glinged and he opened the notification.
New token collected, it said. The rotating AR object had the Greek word for sloth on it, ΑΚΗΔΙΑ.
He tapped an icon on the app that said, ‘Stats.’
Evil Thought
Tokens
Gula
0
Luxuria
0
Avaritia
0
Superbia
1
Invidia
0
Ira
1
Acedia
1
He frowned, looking at the frail woman on his sofa, then back at the app. What was the name of that dwarf lady? Ira? And Superbia from before at the office, and Acedia right here in front of him. So they were all in on the trick.
But what was the point to all this? It wasn’t funny. Were there hidden cameras? He was nobody, a temp, people wouldn’t even bother to prank him, let alone with something so elaborate as this, with apps and AROs and various women.
Horace’s mind raced and he whipped his head back to demand answers of Acedia or whatever.
His only reply was a soft snoring coming from the thin woman.
He blinked at her a few times. Still snoring.
He sighed, then covered her up with the blanket. It was still warm in the northern suburbs but thin people like her were always feeling chilly.
- Writer
