Paths
A Fictional Look Into The Future

  I distinctly remember my friends. In my grade, I had nine. Including sophomores, I had fifteen. With everybody else, I had around twenty. They were the best friends one could want. Perfect and horrible in every way.
  We contradicted each other. My best friend Shula was a book worm and one for peace. Myself, on the other hand, was more interested in technology and getting the situation over with – by force. There was Lyra, the resident (and modest) genius of us all. But Rand had a rather huge dumb streak. And that was just a small sample of the ten-bodied Posse.
  After high school, most of us had gone our different ways. Me, Shula, and my best buddy Isis shipped ourselves off to Northern Illinois University to become a graphic designer, a music teacher, and an interior designer (respectively). During those times, we laughed and yelled, became irritated and grew-up. But our spirit of youth and energy never left us.
  Time passed by. We graduated. I kept up contact with Isis and Shula, but other than that, I had no idea where my other six friends were. Neither did they. It was like we were all of what was left of our posse.
  As I sat at a corner booth one evening, I looked down at the dark wooden table. The pub was rather quiet, since it was a Thursday night. The plate before me had long been cleared since it arrived, save for a pile of french fries that I ate from every once in a while. But the real draw here was the drink I had in my hand. It was white wine, being randomly sipped by me in three minute intervals.
  I was waiting. But waiting for what? I couldn’t recall. My mind had long slipped away from reality when I arrived at the pub at around six in the evening. By a clock on the wall, I was notified that it was now well past nine.
  And then, there came a ringing from my pocket. One that slapped me from my trance. I drew the cell phone from my pocket and flipped up the screen. The text read “Incoming Call”, but below that listed the contact:
  “Rand”
  I had not heard from the six foot four wonder since our freshman year of college. That had been nearly seven years ago, since I was now twenty-five. Why was he calling me now? And how did he still have my cell number?
  My habit of being a pack rat meant not getting rid of any of my friends’ cell phone numbers. They were still on my contacts list. Each was also assigned their own ring tones. Rand’s turned out to be “Piano Man”, since he sung that a lot during high school. But why hadn’t I called the others, since I had their numbers? My calls never went through. After several failed attempts, I resided myself to give up.
  I pressed the green call button and placed the receiver against my ear. “He…hello?”
  “Arian?”
  My heart stopped. It was Rand! “RAND!” I screamed into the phone, disturbing the dead air of the pub. But nobody glared at me.
  “Ouch, that hurts. Well, hey, come over to the booth by the bar, would’ya?”
  Knowing that he must be there, I shot up from my seat. Sure enough, in the booth by the bar, was Rand, cell phone to his face. He had grown a little taller since I had last seen him – he was probably around six six or so. All the marks of puberty were gone, leaving a clean face, tan skin, and a bushy haircut. His eyes still contained the spirit I knew him as.
  I clicked off the phone. Slowly, my feet carried me to the booth.
  “Rand…” I said on a breath. “That’s…you?”
  “Yep.”
  I slammed into the full cushion of the seat. “Holy crap, it is. It’s been…a really long time.”
  “Yeah, way too long for my tastes. So, what’s up? How’ve you been?”
  I was slightly surprise. The Rand in high school was somewhat of a jerk, self-centered and rude, but still my friend. He had definitely matured since then. “Well, college is over, I’m a graphic designer for a CD company, and I’m currently living in an apartment uptown. How ‘bout you?”
  “Not much different. I was in college for a little bit, but ended up in the navy.” To my face, he laughed. “Weird, huh? I ended up having to be shipped overseas for a year before coming back here and being a carpenter.” I made the same face again. “Stop that! I’m living in the outskirts of the city in an apartment. It’s cool.”
  I sighed. “Have you had any contact with any other posse member, Ryu-chan?” No matter how much time passed, Rand’s nickname of Ryu-chan never left. It had been created in seventh grade as part of a literature project.
  “Not really. I sometimes hear from Maytal, but that’s really only when she’s just made some weird movie.” He grinned. “Oh yeah, by the way…” He scrounged around a pocket of a leather jacket draped across the seat before coming up with a crumpled chunk of paper. He tossed the wreckage to me, which I unraveled.
  “What’s…this?”
  “It’s the idea for her new movie.” Rand took a long gulp from the beer bottle in his hand.
  “Posse Unite?” Oh yeah. “Holy…holy crap! She wanted to make this when we were freshman! How did you get a hold of this?”
“She mailed it to me. I got it this morning.”
  “Mmm…yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, not like she has my address anymore. Pfft.” The would-be poster was on a normal 8½ by 11 sheet of computer paper. It was a doodle, with what appeared to be ten chibi figures floating around the middle. There were bits labeled as “tots” and “Mountain Dew can”. In the corner was a scribble of “have Arian make logo” and “have Shula draw stuff”.
  “Wow, I’m touched,” I mumbled, even though I really was. Rand nodded before grabbing the attention of the bartender. “Two shots of vodka,” he said, and the man swiveled around to grab the vodka bottle from behind him.
  “This is cool,” I said, sliding the paper back to Rand. He pocketed the bunch back into his jacket.
  “Yeah. I think she told me it’ll be animated.”
  I perked up. Animation – anime, really – was my specialty. “Who will be the voice actors?”
  “Us, I think. Err, well, if she can get a hold of us.” The vodka shot glasses arrived. Rand slid one over to me. “Alright, a toast.” He lifted up his shot glass. I did the same.
  “Okay…to the success of Posse Unite,” I started.
  “To the posse,” Rand continued.
  “To getting rich.”
  “To getting out into the world.”
  “To finding our friends again.”
  “To getting the posse back together.”
  “Cheers!” We chinked our glasses together before swigging the vodka down. Whew – that was potent stuff. I hadn’t had it in a while.
  “So…Ryu. Why did ya come here?” I slurped around the rest of the drink.
  “To the city, ya mean? Well, I came to confess my undying love for you.”
  “…What?” Rand and I were more along the type of brother-and-sister.
  “Naah, just screwing with ya.” Of course. He grinned his moron grin. “It’s just the way things turned out.” Turning once again to the bartender, he ordered, “Some saké, my good man!”
  “Ahhh, saké,” I said, flicking the shot glass to the edge of the table. “I’m having sudden flash backs to my old anime…ahh…yeah. Wait a sec.” I looked around the table, grabbed the pepper shaker, and took in a great whiff of the stuff. Blegh. “Always brings me back to my senses.” I coughed.
  The saké bottle arrived at the table, along with two eight-ounce glasses. Rand began to fill them up. I tossed the pepper shaker to him.
  “I’m not drunk,” he said in his usual voice. I scowled.
  “I wasn’t either, you know. I just got deranged.”
  “You’re always deranged.”
  “…Shut up.” But it was probably true. I then accepted the glass he slid towards me and took a long gulp of the drink.
  “Ahh yeah, that hits the spot.” He looked at the bottle. “Mmm, yeah…cowboy-brand saké is always the best.” He laughed.
  “Saké is a really potent alcoholic drink,” I pointed out to him. “It’s really easy to get drunk on, and you know it.”
  “Of course I know it. I’ve downed a whole bottle of this stuff by myself before…and got drunk. Not a good experience, I can tell you. The hangover sucks. I nearly chopped my finger off the next day.”
  “That would be entertaining,” I mumbled, sipping the drink. It was bitter.
  And for some reason, my cell phone rang again. But this time, it was “Cell Block Tango” from the movie Chicago. That ring tone was set for Maytal. Rand glanced over at me, interested at the ring tone. I scooped up the device from the table and clicked it on.
  “Hello?”
  “Ari-chan! Hey, what’s up?! It’s Maytal! Where are you?”
  Tons of questions at once always made me spaz. “Err…Hey May-chan. I’m at a pub with Rand here. He showed me that sketch for the Posse Unite movie.”
“Cool, cool. Which pub?”
  “McGuire’s on six and fourth. Uh…you in town?”
  “Yup. Wait, hang on…” The bells attached to the door jingled suddenly. I peered out from the side of the booth and spotted Maytal – at least, what I thought was Maytal. She still had the weird body structure that was a girl’s but with a boyish lanky-look to it. Her hair was the raven black/brown from our high school years, but with gold, red, and purple streaks in it. She spotted the two of us gazing out at her and hopped into the air.
  “Arian! Rand!” she chirped, pocketing her cell phone and bounding over to the booth. Maytal took a seat next to me, so I scooted to be in the middle of the semi-circle booth. Without us even asking, the bartender placed another glass at the table.
  “Some saké?” Rand asked, readying the bottle.
  “Certainly, extremely tall citizen. Hey, it’s cowboy-brand saké! Always the finest.” She laughed her Maytal laugh. It was like a hybrid giggle-laugh-bubbly…thing. I could never describe it, but it made me laugh too.
  We conversed on for about half an hour, just catching up on briefings of what we had been doing. During this time, I refilled my glass two more times, and Rand requested another bottle. Maytal had probably gurgled down more than she could handle, since she was swaying in her seat. Of course, this was Maytal, and she was loopy by merely eating waffles.
  “Hey – heeeeeey Arrrrian,” Maytal giggled. Oh yeah, she was gone. “Did ya know yer face is reeed?” She slammed her head onto the table, laughing. Then again, she often did this while in “normal” mode as well. What was considered normal for Maytal I could never say.
  “I know, I know,” I bubbled out. Like my dad, my face got red whenever I drank. It didn’t matter how much – my cheeks got red, with a red stripe connecting the two. Changing the topic, I said, “Who’s paying?”
  Rand, surprisingly, was still with us, if a little clouded. “I’ve got it,” he said, taking out his wallet and producing a credit card. Maytal and I started laughing.
  “What? Are you guys really that drunk?”
  “I’m not drunk, I’m plastered!” Maytal whined in a groan-like tone.
  “I’m not drunk,” I said, slurring the words together slightly. “That’s a credit card. And who in their right mind would give you a freakin’ credit card, huuuh?”
  “I have the right to have one! And I’m paying for your drinks, so shut up!”
  “HA! It seems I’m more successful in life, right?! Maytal?!”
  “Why are you asking her?!”
  “Get away from me! I must…obsess over kilts and all things British!”
  “My God, it’s high school again…”
  “Naaah, we couldn’t drink in high school.”
  The three of us remained silent after our extremely random outburst. Rand and I looked up towards the bartender. His gaze met ours. Sighing, he removed the toothpick from his mouth.
  “It’s a good thing you couldn’t.”