Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG - Chapter 285
I stared at the opening. The upside down “U” shape was perfectly cut and sanded, the interior lavishly upholstered with system-sourced Vicuna Wool, a small cashmere pillow with golden trim creating asymmetry. I turned it diagonally, then back again, deciding after a moment that it looked best aligned with the bedding. It was resplendent, extravagant, perfect.
And yet.
“It’s a little off. Something about the roof tiles.”
“I see it,” Iris signed grimly, and pressed her hand to the roof. The tiles rearranged themselves. “How’s that?” My vision blurred, everything simultaneously bigger and smaller than it should be, and I blinked, trying to force my perspective closer to reality.
Behind us, there was a loud thud as a large wooden board hit the ground. I turned and squinted through the bright halo of effervescent light at Nick, flexing as he slapped the saw back down on Iris’s worktable. “This saw is fire. I’m on fire. I’m a two-by-four machine bro!” Utterly pleased with himself, he flexed both biceps, then his energy seemed to flag a bit. “Hot. I’m really hot. Kinda wanna take my shirt off.”
“Hello? My sister’s here,” I snapped.
“Oh damn, my bad.” Nick grinned guiltily.
“He can cool off if he needs to,” Iris signed, still withdrawn but seemingly unbothered.
“Well—” Nick started.
“Not happening. He wants to cool off he can go take a cold shower. Keep your damn shirt on,” I stuck a finger at Nick.
Nick scratched his chin, then his eyebrows went up. “What about my pants?”
“Motherfucker—”
“Got shorts on underneath bro, chill.”
“Then why the hell even ask me?!”
Julien snorted, then laughed. “You guys are never gonna get three done if you keep bickering like an old married couple.”
“Bruh,” Nick said.
I looked back to the row of doghouses taking up the back of what was once Sae’s room. “Jules, you went to college right?”
“Yeah?”
“They teach you to count in college?”
Julien did a double-take, glancing back over the row of doghouses and blinking. “Oh no. I am gone.”
“Leave the man alone, Matt. Might be seeing single but he’s also making history.” Nick scooped up the fallen two-by-four and stuck it out to Julien, who took it and fastened it to an ever-growing structure with expert precision.
“That’s way too easy for you,” I said, openly envious.
“Welp.” Julien grunted, tightening a screw. “Helps that I’ve made a few treehouses in my time. Similar concept, different setting.”
“It’s shaking a lot,” Tara called down, “If I get tragically paralyzed from installing an intercom into a prototype before it’s even built, I’m suing you, Julien.”
“I promise it’s stable!” Julien replied, giving the center pylon a quick shake, grimacing as Tara yelped, then adding on another supporting beam.
Nick snorted. “Don’t worry, Tara. If that happens, Matt’ll call a bunch of friends over, get everyone high, and remodel the entire apartment to be wheelchair friendly.”
“Isn’t it already wheelchair friendly?” Iris signed, showing a ghost of a smile.
“It is. And bitch, this was your idea,” I snapped at Nick, turning back to Iris’s work after warning Tara to be careful.
“Like I said it, sure, then you deadass started buying shit wholesale off the marketplace.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
There was a knock. We’d closed the room off for the dogs’ safety more than anything else. “Boys? We need a second opinion.”
I caught Nick’s eye and mouthed, “No matter how it looks, be supportive.”
He mouthed something back that looked like, “I’m always supportive, you mothering bastard.” Or potentially “I’m always providing motherless bastards,” but I was mostly sure it was the first.
“Come in.”
Charlotte threw open the door, cheeks tinged from exertion. Then she saw the state of the room and her eyes widened. “Holy shit you guys work fast.”
“Kinsley still doing okay?” I asked.
“Yup.” Charlotte nodded. “Still sleeping like a rock in the living room, but she only had a bite. Breathing and pulse are normal. She’ll sleep it off.”
“And be cranky she missed the party,” Nick laughed.
Charlotte turned to the tall, meandering spiral structure Julien had already started putting rails on. “Uh, Julien? What is that?”
“Greetings Charlotte,” Julien said, his voice over-serious and seductive. “What you see before you, is the result of what happens when three brave, upstanding men of the court—and one little sister—identify a grave injustice.”
“Jules, you are gone,” Charlotte put a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“That’s what he said,” Nick added helpfully.
Julien shook his head vehemently, squaring his stance and putting a hand to his chest. “What is gone, Charlotte, is the hopes and dreams of the canine ancestors that came before. We domesticated them. Then betrayed them. And today, we will finally right that wrong. No longer will dogs be forced to observe the bourgeoise trappings of their feline antagonists with envy. No longer will Fido, or Prince, or Wheatley, live out their days in the dust, deprived of any hint of altitude or verticality.”
“Really stirring for the subject matter,” I noted dryly.
“Kinda tearing up a little,” Nick agreed.
Julian grinned and extended his arm toward the structure, then finished in a solemn voice. “I present to you, the first ever, canine arboreal relaxation station. The Dog-Tree.”
“Here, here!” Nick raised his giant water bottle.
“It’s looking great, Jules, it really is,” Charlotte bit her lip.
“Everything alright?” I asked, fighting a sudden upsurge of paranoia.
“Right. Sorry, you said you needed an opinion,” Julien said, dropping the noble prince act.
“We really fucking do,” Sae’s voice announced from outside the room. Trying for the same harshness as usual, but overcompensating. In my addled state, I might have been overthinking it, but Sae sounded terrified.
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Charlotte’s smile drooped a bit. “Keep in mind we’re not done. This is like the sketch, before we fill everything else in. It might have been smarter to wait until I was no longer… ahem… chemically altered but…”
“She insisted,” Nick said, waving the worry away. “It’s alright. No worries. This is a place for friends. Judgement free zone. Right?” He looked at me.
“Judgement is suspended until everyone is sober,” I agreed. “Come on Sae, let’s see it.”
“Bring her in, bring her in, bring her—Jesus Christ,” Nick’s jaw dropped as a beautiful stranger walked around the door frame. Someone who looked so completely different from either version of Sae I knew that my mind was having trouble keeping up.
The stranger scowled and immediately turned around and walked out.
“No, Sae, that was a good Jesus Christ,” I raised my voice, glaring at Nick—who still looked completely flabbergasted.
Far more tentative than before, Sae returned with her arms crossed. As long as I’d known her, she’d always been eye-catching, but this was something else. From the neck up the insectile features were entirely gone. Thick shining hair framed full lips, high-cheekbones, and a slender jaw-line, the compound eyes she’d loathed traded for a dark, captivating stare.
“Hot-diggity-damn,” Nick whispered.
“She looks like a celebrity,” Iris signed, and even as I conveyed it out loud, I had to agree. Sae gave Iris an appreciative smile before she frowned again.
“Girl. You look stunning,” Tara added, looking down from her perch on the dog tree.
Sae cleared her throat, then looked away and cleared it again. “You’re all being very sweet and supportive. And as much as part of me has wanted that sort of support my entire life, I kinda need the cold bastard take.” She looked to me expectantly. “Give it to me straight.”
“Uh. You sure?”
“Yeah,” Sae nodded.
“Well…” I hedged, trying to strike the balance between support and what she was asking for. “It’s hard to say. You look kind of perfect? Maybe—”
“Don’t you dare say too perfect,” Tara called down.
“She asked for the cold bastard take, babe.”
“I don’t care, sweetheart.”
“No, it’s fine,” Sae shook her head, then confirmed. “Too perfect?”
I scratched my head. “Remember who you’re talking to and take this with a grain of salt. But the way I’ve always seen it, there’s like—shit, I need a whiteboard.”
“No whiteboards,” Nick and Sae said simultaneously.
“It’s better as a visual,” I argued.
There was a rustle as Iris fished around in her backpack, pausing to sign to me. “I’ve got art pencils and a sketchpad. Would that help?”
“Yes, you’re a godsend,” I took the sketchbook, flipped to an empty page and began to draw. “Our X-axis is attractiveness. Far left is least attractive, far right is most attractive.” I drew a line, then scrawled a bell curve on top of it, then drew another vertical line. “And this, our y-factor, is approachability. From a psychological standpoint—and there are multiple studies I’m drawing on here—the more attractive you are, the more benefit there is. People automatically assume you’re smart, lend more credence to what you say, and are more likely to seek you out and approach you.” I turned the sketch and pointed to the above-average section of the bell-curve. “At least until somewhere around here. Once you get above this area, people get kind of weird. Intimidated. They’re far more likely to assume that you’re someone important, or full of herself, or whatever. Result being, they’re more likely to dodge you and make assumptions.”
“Yeah… yeah. That kind of tracks,” Tara admitted.
Sae snatched the sketchbook from me and studied the scrawlings. “Asked for the cold-bastard take, not the nerd-take, but I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”
“Alternatively, they’ll just get confused and ask for an autograph. Black Pink in your areaaaa,” Nick drew the last word out, immediately cut off by a collective groan. “What?”
Julien shook his head.
“Nick, I don’t care how high you are, you can’t say that,” I moaned.
“Huh?” Nick scanned the room with an expression of betrayal. “Wait—”
“That’s racist,” Iris signed sternly.
“Iris says you’re racist.”
“I’m not—It’s not like that—Sae I can’t think when you’re mean-mugging me with that face,” Nick backed away.
“What is it like, then, Nick?” Sae crossed her arms, tapping a foot expectantly.
“It wasn’t a stereotype, I was being specific!” Nick blinked rapidly. “She looks like Jisoo from Black Pink!”
“Oh shit,” Charlotte paced in front, looking at Sae’s face from all angles. “You kind of do.” Alarm came through in her voice. “No. Actually, it’s almost one-to-one. Sae, swear to god I didn’t do that on purpose. Don’t know how it happened but I’m really not like that.”
Chaos reigned, with Nick and Charlotte both taking very different approaches to underlining how not-racist they were, while Julien and Tara formed Switzerland, observing from the sidelines and wisely staying out of the crossfire.
“You idiots,” I laid back on the floor and put my hands on my face. “No one is racist. There’s a thing—”
“A thing, Helpline?” I could almost feel her glare through my hands.
“Yes, Sae, I’m fucking impaired for the first time since middle-school and can’t think of the name, cut me a break. But it happens with police composite sketches where a person is described to a sketch artist and the result ends up resembling a celebrity.”
“Maybe you should make another graph.”
“Fuck you.”
Julien coughed. Almost laughed, then coughed again to cover it. “Uh, just piping in as a totally neutral and politically correct party to say that the term Matt’s forgetting is Celebrity Resemblance Bias.”
“Yes! Exactly,” I pointed at him.
“So it’s an actual thing?” Sae asked.
Julien nodded. “And while it does happen with sketches, it also happens with plastic surgery. You start with attractive features, most celebrities are varying degrees of attractive, they’re a presence in our lives, and that mental image becomes a source we subconsciously draw on to fill in the blanks. And Charlotte’s a dyed in the wool k-pop stan.”
“Juuuuules,” Charlotte whined.
“Seriously? Would you rather be outed as a racist or a k-pop stan?”
Sae was about to respond when Talia came staggering in, tail tucked, almost swooning from side to side, her eyes red. “Why does my body feel so sluggish?”
“Did you sneak a taco off the tray?” Nick asked.
“No…” Talia lied.
Julien stumbled backwards. “Holy shit, a talking dog!”
God dammit.
“What did you call me?” Talia growled deep in her throat.
Sae put a hand to her face. “Alright, now that I’m mad and apparently have no one to be mad at, I’m gonna let you all explain that.” She put a hand palm out towards Talia in a circular gesture, then tugged at Charlotte’s sleeve, clearly moving on from the awkwardness. “Ready to go back to the drawing board?”
“Yeah.” Charlotte looked down at Talia, did something that landed somewhere between a bow and curtsy, then stage-whispered to Julien. “Fill me in later.”
Relief flooded Charlotte’s features as the two departed and awkwardly reintroduced Talia as Nick’s summon and resumed work on the furnishings. Talia scanned the evolving room, emanating a mix of grumpiness and disdain. “For all the time I’ve been a summon, Nick has never built me a house.”
Nick stumbled, no doubt unhappy that he was catching another stray until he realized Talia wasn’t actually talking to him and resumed his business.
I slapped the top of the closest structure. “Talia. This is a doghouse. For dogs. I’m sure Nick thought about it, and ended up assuming if he did build you a house in which dogs are housed, you’d take it as a grave insult.”
“Can you guys, like, stop saying my name that way? Gonna give me a coronary.” Nick complained.
Talia ignored him and sniffed the wool, then entered the house and laid down in it. “Regardless of who it’s meant for, it’s a very nice house.” She turned her head, all side-eye.
I put my hands on my hips and sighed, glancing at Iris. “Up for building a fourth?”
“Yeah,” Iris nodded, just looking happy to be needed. “Small structures don’t take much out of me. It’s not a bother.”
“It should be bigger than the others, so those cheerful idiots don’t get any ideas,” Talia instructed.
“Such a choosing beggar,” I rolled my eyes.
“Wait!” Tara exclaimed. She was stretched out supine on the upper level of the dog-tree, head hanging upside down off the platform, hair streaming straight down. “Talia’s a wolf. What if we did something a similar size to the rest, but made it out of stone instead, and made it look kind of natural-like?”
“Like a summer-home cave, since she’s over here all the time?” I asked.
“Yes. I like it. That human is wise.” Talia acknowledged and put her head down, nestling into the vicuna.
Beside me Iris was already drawing, creativity apparently reinvigorated by the idea of doing something with a more natural bent.
A vibration rattled through the floorboards, emanating three times before it faded any accompanying noise squelched by the music and Tara’s voice. “Did someone knock?”
Tara cocked her head. “Not that I heard.”
“Matt!” Someone screamed from the other side of the door. I jumped to my feet and raced to the living room, only for something to slam into me full force. Kinsley grabbed me and shook me, eyes wide in panic. “Matt we’re fucked.”
“Breathe, Kinsley,” I brushed aside her matted hair and pressed the back of my hand to her forehead. She felt clammy, but not so hot it was concerning. “Who was at the door? And why are we fucked?”
“Because we’re all high as balls and the feds are here!” Kinsley hissed.
