First Encounter
A sharp, metallic crunch echoes from the back of the store.
What the fuck was that?
It's followed by a scuffling, like a wild animal.
The hairs on the back of your neck rise, goosebumps pricking your skin. You clench your jaw, debating on whether to investigate.
The sounds persist.
You set down your pencil and slink forward, drawn to the noises like a moth to a flame. Peeking around the corner, you spot a man precariously balanced on the store's ATM, his back to you. He's clad in a dark gray hoodie, an ill-fitting bucket hat perched atop his head, and what you assumed was a pair of skintight, white pants.
Considering that the machine is so large, you wondered how he even managed to topple it on its side.
You cloak yourself in silence, observing him from afar. His movements are erratic, punctuated by impromptu stomps and jumps.
As he fumbles, begging the ATM to “give me your money,” you piece together his agenda. You take a step forward to intervene but freeze in place.
What is that dark, inky stuff?
As he continues his assault, thrusting his arm through an irregular hole in the machine, you realize the impossibility of the situation.
His hand – or, more accurately, the other end of his hand – appears in the most random spots around the room. Like an unpredictable, amorphous whack-a-mole game, it pops up from places it has no right to.
How is this possible? Are those…portals?
An icy sensation pressed against your neck. You yelped. His rogue hand found you.
He turns around.
“Ah!” He jerks his hand out from the portal, losing his balance and collapsing to the ground.
Shit. You blew your cover.
You resist the instinctive urge to assist him, shaking your head. He’s the one causing trouble here, not me.
“Now, what are you doing?” You interrogated, a teasing lilt to your voice.
“Uh – nothing.” He stiffens. “There’s nothing unusual about what I am doing.”
“Are you serious? You’re creating portals, man! Do you know how –“
“I have no clue what you’re insinuating!” He places his hands on his hips. “Everything here is completely-“ his protest was cut short as a black void opened beneath him, swallowing him whole.
You can't help but laugh at the immaculate comedic timing. However, your amusement is short-lived as you plummet to the ground.
A crushing, searing sensation claws at your chest as if your ribcage is collapsing inward. It's intensified by the additional weight pressing down on you.
"Ah! Oh, my gosh!" He spluttered, clumsily disentangling himself from atop you, every movement exacerbating the pain. "I'm so - so sorry!"
“What the hell, dude? “ You groan, curling into yourself, “Ow! Goddamnnit. Seriously, man? You couldn’t have practiced more before trying to rob me?”
“Well, technically speaking, you’re just an employee, right? So I’m not really robbing–“ He pauses. “Uh. Why are you still on the ground?”
“That’s a funny way of asking if I’m okay.” You rasp out, each word pulling at the tender spot.
“Oh! Um. Are you okay?”
“Well, my broken rib was almost done healing, but now...” You press your hands against the floor in an attempt to hoist yourself up, but the raw, biting sensation in your chest holds you down, “Goddamnnit. Fucking hell!”
“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” He reaches out to you, but his hands retreat back, “I didn’t mean to – uh - I’m sorry about your rib.” After watching you writhe for a few more seconds, he finally asks, “Hey, do you need help? I feel like you need help.”
What a gentleman. First, he tries robbing you and then offers to help you up?
“No. No. I’ve got it. Just give me a second.”
“Okayyy. Counting. Oneee,” he draws the word out in mock anticipation, “Mississipp-iiii. Alright! Time’s up.”
You give an exasperated eye-roll, then painstakingly rise with a grunt.
“Hey, wait! I was just – uh,” he hesitates, his hand half-extended toward you before abruptly retracting it, caught in a cycle of uncertainty. Once you’ve managed to stand, he asks, “Are you good? You okay? You’re fine, right?”
“Jesus Christ.” You hug your upper body, “That hurt.” Every intake of breath feels like shards of glass grinding against your insides. “Hurts.”
And I thought I was done with that stage of the injury.
“Yeah, listen, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t think-“
“Yeah, whatever.” You swat your hand, “Forget about it. You’re making portals - bending reality. That’s a far more interesting topic of conversation, don’t you think?”
“Ah! Well!” He inflates his chest with newfound confidence, “You're talking to the right guy then!”
You chuckle, but then clench your teeth from the throb in your chest. “Just a second ago, you were denying your involvement with portals. And let’s be honest,” you run your hand through your hair, “you’re terrible at controlling them!”
He bristles at your comment. “Now, that!” He gesticulates with an accusing finger, “is an unjustified assertion, okay?”
“Tch.” You smirk. “Okay. Prove me wrong then.”
“Gladly!" He tilts his head. "Now how may I do that?”
You saunter over to the toppled ATM, its metallic body lying like a vanquished beast. You crouch, your fingers curling underneath its bulk, trying to resurrect it. “Ow! God! This thing weighs a ton.”
“Quite literally! These kinds of ATM machines actually weigh around 1,000 pounds or so. It probably isn’t good for you to try lifting that, considering your-”
“So, are you going to help me or just spout trivia?”
“I - I don’t think two people of an average physique can really lift that thing. Now, if this store had one of those more compact ATM machines, like every other place, it would definitely be more convenient for-”
“Ugh!” You flex your strained fingers and step back. “Alright, Mr. Portal Master. Why don't you magic this thing back in place?”
“Uh... Okie dokie.”
A few seconds pass.
“So are you gonna...?”
“Yes, yes. I'm just... thinking!”
You giggle and let him wade through his thoughts.
With a wave of his hand, a void appears beneath the toppled ATM, while another one materializes on the wall. The bulky machine falls back into its rightful place with a satisfying thud.
“Woah,” you whisper, the awe evident in your wide eyes. “That’s a mindfuck.”
"Yes!" he began, animated with a burst of enthusiasm, "Utilizing these portals in addition to gravity to propel and reposition something is something I never thought of before." His voice turns up a pitch in excitement.
“Oh. Huh,” a thoughtful pout forms on your lip. “That’s a cool way to analyze it."
“Yes! The implications of this are quite fascinating!”
"Mhm," you smile and nod.
Silence.
“Well! Back to our previous conversation.” You clear your throat, announcing, “It is now time for the ultimate test of your portal-creating prowess!"
“Oh – uh!” A visible ripple passed through his body as if a switch flipped inside him. “Right!”
Sweeping your arm towards the blue box, you declare, "Get the money out.”
He promptly places a splotch and plunges his hand through. Like before, it appeared in another part of the room rather than the desired location. He tries again. And again. And again. Each time, it comes out in different places, but never where intended.
“This doesn’t make sense,” you voice.
“What?” He stops in his tracks.
“I just mean that...” you furrow your brows, “it seemed like you could easily and accurately position the portals for lifting the thing up. On your first try. Why are you struggling so much here?”
“I...um…” He shuffled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
You decide to explore this a bit more. "Can you place a portal here?" you ask, pointing at the wall.
"Uh... Yes! Absolutely." Without wasting a beat, he plucks a portal from his leg and positions it precisely where you'd indicated.
“Do you think you could make the other end come out here?” You point to the shelf right next to you.
“Um,” He hesitates for a moment before sticking his hand through. As per your request, he managed to create a successful link between the two locations. “Yes!”
“Hm,” you muse.
He waits, watching you with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.
“Could it be a line-of-sight issue?" You hypothesize, crossing your arms as you lean against the wall. "When you can directly see both spots you're creating a portal between, you don't seem to struggle."
"I, uh, yes. I had a similar hunch. Observational control does appear to play a key role. It's like needing to visualize the destination... which becomes problematic when it's something opaque like an ATM."
"So, if you can't see it, it's possible you can't... well, 'portal' there," you finish for him.
He releases a disappointed hum, his shoulders sagging just slightly.
"But hey, let's not get discouraged," you said, grinning at his dismay. "Perhaps there's another factor we've overlooked.”
"Hmm," he ponders, rocking back on his heels.
“Maybe you’ve got to create a mental representation of the destination. Visualize the ATM’s insides even if you can't see it. That could be worth a shot.”
"Interesting idea," he murmurs. "I...I could try that."
“Also, consider the spatial relationships involved. Think of its physical coordinates relative to you!" You offer, your mind buzzing.
“Alrighty!” As he sticks his hand through, you find yourself holding your breath.
To your surprise and his delight, he triumphantly exclaims, "Hello, money!"
“Woah! You did it, dude!” Caught up in the celebration, you raise your hand high, and he quickly recorporates the high five.
"Yeah!" He cheers. Then he freezes. “Why did you help me? Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble?”
“We don’t have cameras installed yet, so my boss will never know,” you shrugged. “Plus, you were right about what you said earlier. You’re not really robbing me.”
With an exaggerated bounce in his step, he marches to the exit. You trail after him, returning to the register. You're nearly sure you can hear concealed, exuberant giggles.
As he pushes the door open, a soft chime rings out from the bell overhead.
“Come again soon!” you call out.