THE MOMENT
Carl watched the two teen girls walk into his shop and scowled. They weren't dressed as outlandish as some of his other recent customers; but, he didn't trust them just the same. They were too young to possibly have any business in his shop. They ignored him as they began browsing around the display tables in the center of the shop. Each one was a simple card table with three long boxes full of records.
"You have to forgive her at some point...," the short girl with jet black curls flowing down over her shoulders said. She flipped through the records, barely glancing at the cover art. The tone in her voice told Carl that they were in the middle of a conversation that began long before they entered his shop. The girl sounded tired of that particular subject; Carl had a good ear for discerning different pitches.
"Do I?" the taller girl with white spiky hair replied. She had her arms crossed and stood next to her friend. She did not seem interested in browsing the records.
"Yes!" the short one replied with the same kind of exasperation that accompanied an eyeroll. "She's one of your best friends and you've had a crush on her since you met."
Despite himself, Carl was drawn into their high school drama. He guessed neither one of the girls had graduated from high school yet. And, they were talking about the kind of things high school girls talked about: each other.
Carl was a lonely man that had begun to grow more bitter lately. He would never consider his shop a 'success'; but, as it was he never had to worry about money. And he never worked particularly hard. Running his own business was less exciting than he thought it would be; even if he had trouble remembering when he decided to start it. The fact was that Carl was pushing 50 and his past was a blur of memories. He tried not to dwell on the fact that most of those memories, the clearest ones, took place in the shop.
His most prominent memory was a group of patrons that were dressed like renaissance faire attendees. They began arguing about which record was 'the right one' and even pulled out maps and large dusty tomes from their packs to present their case.
They had taken over a whole display table with charts and obnoxious noise that Carl finally lost his cool. He yelled at them to buy something or get out. They bought something but tried to pay with a small golden cube the size of a six-sided die.
Carl was annoyed and just wanted them out so he accepted the payment. He was surprised when another group of strangely dressed youths also paid with a golden cube. The most surprising part was that he accepted the payment, and each cube from a group after that. The cubes were gone by the next day so he knew they were worthless. He was sure that this time he could hold his ground if they tried to give him cubes. It was just the two girls, not a larger group with weapons.
"You know what she did to become Unique," the tall girl answered. "How can I forgive that??"
"That's not who she is," the short one shook her head. "If she had to make that choice again today, you know she wouldn't. She only agreed to it because Ms. Sharp was there with her. And, you know how manipulative Ms. Sharp was from personal experience."
"I guess you're not wrong...," the tall girl sighed.
"That's because I'm right," the short one chirped. She spun around and approached the counter with a small stack of records; but, Carl saw her pull out a golden cube.
"Sorry, cash or card only," he said.
"Huh?" the short one tilted her head at him; her raven curls jostled with the motion. "Since when?" she asked. Carl thought it was an odd question because he'd never seen her before. But, he shrugged and answered.
"Since now," he said.
"Weird... okay...," the girl nodded and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a transparent glass card. Carl was intrigued when the reader accepted it; but, he did not want them to linger now that they paid.
"And tell all your friends the same thing; no more golden cubes," he added.
"What friends?" the short girl asked.
"Your Rennaissance club or whatever it is; all you young people that dress funny and bring those cubes in here."
"You... remember them??" she asked. She exchanged a confused look with her tall friend; both of them shrugged at each other.
"Of course I remember," Carl nodded. "I remember those cubes are worthless; they're gone by morning."
"What's your favorite number?" the tall girl asked.
"One!" Carl answered. Then, he shook his head. He was surprised at his own answer; but, he did not want them to know that. "What does it matter?" he asked. But, neither girl was paying attention to him after he answered his favorite number.
"I guess we call Aury?" the tall one shrugged. The short one nodded in agreement as Carl wondered what was happening exactly.
"WAIT!" a young, pale woman with short dark hair walked into the shop. "Don't call Aurelio," she said as she approached the two young girls. The pair looked surprised that she knew them; the tall girl spoke first.
"Why not? Who are you?" she asked.
"Aurelio won't help this man, he'll only reset him and leave him in NPC mode," the woman replied.
"How do you know that?" the short girl asked; she was still the shortest in the shop.
"My name is Quinn...," the woman introduced herself. She brought her hand to her chest and gave a curt half-bow. But, Carl couldn't help but notice the wide bracelet she wore on her left hand. It fit her loose and looked like red metal. The number 14 was engraved on it in black. "...I need to tell you about the future," she said. "A future that Ms. Sharp is trying to erase."