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Kai’s shoulders drooped. Leo knew he couldn’t afford to take any more time off work. Their landlady, Shirley, was cool about them owing a little bit of rent, as they’d been great tenants for years, but he knew that Kai didn’t want to take advantage of her good nature.
“Hey, it’s alright, they’re going to pay for the train fare, hotel, the lot,” said Leo. “We won’t be out of pocket, which reminds me, I’d better go and clean some offices. Fuck, I hate my job.”
“Ah, man, it’s not forever. Needs must.”
“You’re right. Anyway, I’m off to hot yoga afterwards to take my mind off of the world of pain that is the cleaning industry.” Leo pulled on his joggers and searched around for a vest in the ever-expanding laundry pile that there seemed to have been a huge stand off about putting away. “Have you seen my black vest?”
“It’s in the wash, I think. Use one of mine,” replied Kai.
“You coming to yoga as well?”
“Nah, I thought I’d get the editing done for the new vids. Gotta be consistent, remember? Plus, I really can’t be arsed.”
“You’re such a grafter. Chuck us your vest, then, would you?”
Kai tossed it over, and Leo threw it on, grabbed his keys and wallet and headed for the door.
ChapterSeven
The morning sun cast a pale glow through Quint’s kitchen blind, shining fondly onto his breakfast that was sitting majestically atop his rustic oak table, begging to be devoured. He sliced a banana, arranging it meticulously atop his full-fat Greek yoghurt (a weekend treat), sprinkled on a handful of blueberry Granola, then drizzled some delicious local honey he’d sourced from a pop-up farmer’s market a couple of weeks ago.
Wherever one was in the universe, people would find ways to source the strangest of delicacies from the most unlikely of creatures. He pondered who the first person could have been that discovered honey and, more importantly, how? It wasn’t something that he’d experienced in his previous life and it was one in a million things that he had discovered in his thirty years here.
He finished off preparing his breakfast with a healthy dollop of expensive, crunchy peanut butter, then mixed the concoction together, taking a delicious mouthful containing a fusion of all of the wonderful flavours, then savoured every second that it was in his mouth.
Quint stared outside while he ate, appreciating another personal slice of heaven that was his garden. In the summer it was beautiful, flowers blooming due to his meticulous timing when it came to sowing seeds and planting bulbs. Now, the winter had dwindled the vibrant colours, leaving only those resilient enough to survive the cold months. There was a serenity out there still, though devoid of all wildlife since he’d rescued Ariella from Battersea Cat’s Home a few months back.
After finishing his breakfast, it was time for his mindless morning scroll through his phone, the wondrous device that gave him access to information of all of the events going on around this whole planet, good and bad. He imagined what it would have been like to have technology like this on Vondiv’d. Maybe if they did, he would have been able to find out what actually happened to them. But Earth, of course, had its flaws too in that respect: they still couldn’t travel past their own moon or see beyond fifty billion light years, so he had no idea if Vondiv’d was still under some violent transition, with history lost and the anger of the planet wanting to keep it that way, making it unreachable to outside forces even thirty years later.
As Players, they remembered past lives, past planets, whether or not they came from the likes of more spiritual, warlike, or technological societies, and they could all help fashion or, more darkly,manipulatetechnology and the society around them with the knowledge that other life was out there. Even the Players born to bad blood, who wanted to take life with them and burn the world, were rooted in how it cost them dearly in the next life when it came to love and loss. But in the end, everyone lived by the limits of the planets they were reincarnated into. And with Earth, other than a Player’sword, they could prove no more that life was out there or force Rebootsto remember there was. So they kept to the one rule over confidentiality, only talking to other Playerswhen they recognised each other, and they either helped each other move technology forward or guided Reboots to work with the talents they brought with them.
Sometimes having the hurt of it all wiped away really did help, because Quint found it so hard to look Vondiv’d’s way and try to understand why life must always lead to death in the end. He was sure that there were people still there, he just didn’t want to imagine what kind of hell they lived as they fought to hold on to each other and whatever was left.
One thing seemed certain, though: the lack of technology on Vondiv’d drew less Players, and he could understand why more advanced societies like Earth attracted more.
Quint fully understood now that the advancement in technology here on Earth was likely due to Players reincarnating from even more sophisticated locations in the universe, bringing with them their knowledge and inventions to share with the masses. That was how the universe seemed to progress.
He wondered what he brought here himself. It had to be something. In his previous life, he had taken great pleasure in nurturing the talents of others for the greater good, sharing his community building skills with his fellow townsfolk, helping them find ways to work together to better their lives. He thought he had found a similar purpose working for a popular music production company, seeking out raw, new talent, finding musicians that would help bring joy to the masses and conjuring up emotions within people that only the harmonics of great music can yield. A natural reflection of the universe and the harmonies found in creating and sustaining life. However, it seemed the powers that be in charge of his place of work now had other ideas, placing the importance of making money above all else, including a hard-earned reputation spanning decades.
The company was pulling in social media celebrities, feeding on their vast followings, just so that they could sell some mass-produced, generic, soulless tracks to their followers. Backing tracks had been sitting on hard drives for years, waiting to be married to any processed voice that brought in an audience.
It was why Quint had lost interest in the music business, accidentally falling into the world of crypto currency, discovering it as an easy way of making money and thus maintaining the comfortable lifestyle he had accustomed himself to.
“The whole market is fuelled by fear. Only the truly fearless can ride the waves properly. You and I have that gift of being truly fearless. We know where their fear is going to steer them, which is why we can cut to the finish line first and win,”said his good friend, Harry, who’d introduced him to theThe Player’s Loungeapp.
Harry was right. It was another lesson in how to use what he had learnt through his lifetimes to his advantage.
With the heightened senses that are attributed to a Player, Quint was able to read the markets easily and capitalise on it, thus being able to afford the gorgeous West London mews cottage that he was sitting in right now.
It was starting to become an obsession, every spare minute he had being used to make more money. It was a focus that would steer his mind from the pain of not being able to find Leo.
Quint shuffled over to sit on his sofa in his dressing gown. The moments he spent alone were always a time to reflect. His home here had classic touches with a modern twist, but it was a tenth of the size of his house on Vondiv’d. The thought of paying money for a house there, let alone the amount his current home cost him was totally unheard of. That was the way of the world here, though—money ruled, not trade of skill or goods, which was no doubt why the music business had taken his heart here: natural vocal skill and helping get it out there to inspire the masses. Money was a concept that Quint, even after thirty years of living here, had struggled to make sense of.
He closed his eyes, remembering Cody’s face, his eyes holding a depth of sadness that came from a lifetime’s worth of experiences—gone but not forgotten. Where did he fit in here on Earth? Did he even know himself yet?
Cody made good on his promise to keep in touch, and in the recent weeks of getting to know one another,The Brew Boxhad become a kind of sanctuary to Quint and Cody as they met there frequently. It was a safe place where Quint could speak with Cody about their memories that stretched beyond the realm of the ordinary without judgement. It was a connection that would defy explanation to the oblivious around them.
The conversations Quint had had with Cody over the past few weeks had stirred something within him. He had built an unspoken kinship with him. The similarity between them that struck a chord within Quint most was that he realised they were both seekers, distracted somewhat from finding their true purposes in life by a shared goal—to find their soulmates.
