#nemrecall

RUNA

INT. LUKA’S ROOM – DAY

RUNA

Luka’s room has always looked like that of the most diligent student. A dream come true for any teacher—stacks of books, everything neatly organized.

But today, it looks deranged, as if infected with some madness or obsession. The whiteboard above the desk is covered in a chaotic maze of notes and pictures.

The room feels uneasy, bombarding my senses with colors and shapes, flooding me with dizziness.

In contrast, Luka has a warm glow of excitement around him.

RUNA

“So that’s what you’ve been doing all this time. Tracking a serial killer.”

LUKA

“We both have. And we’ve been on the trail for a long time. This is from our game.”

RUNA

As I step closer to the map, I recognize the shape. An old map of New York.

Yume’s concept art is plastered all over it, surrounded by dozens of neatly written notes.

“I don’t understand. You’ve skipped our meetings, but you’ve been working on the game?”

His eyes light up with a strange smile. I am lost in the dissonance of the situation—everything about it is fuzzy and unsettling, yet Luka radiates with yellow happiness.

LUKA

“I’ve ventured into the unknown.”

“I had to take this journey all by myself—but now I bring you the boon to share. And our game will never be the same.”

RUNA

It’s unsettling, to be honest.

He often talks like this—like some nineteenth-century gothic novel character.

Normally, I’d joke about it, but I’m in no mood for jokes today.

“You’re freaking me out.”

When he turns towards the map, I swiftly peek into his bedside drawer.

A notebook, painkillers. No drugs in sight.

LUKA

“I might have been a little indisposed lately, but I assure you, I have paid due diligence to our project.”

RUNA

The moment he sits next to me, I study his face. His pupils—are they wider than usual? Could just be the dim light.

I need to know for sure. I grab the bedside lamp and shine it straight into his eyes.

LUKA

“What on earth are you doing?!”

RUNA

He frowns, tries to pull away. I force his eyelids open. He lets me.

“Being worried.”

His pupils shrink normally. I put the lamp down. One theory down.

LUKA

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m not on substance of any kind.”

RUNA

“Then what are you on? Cause you’re clearly on something, Luka.”

LUKA

“What if I told you we could meet in a dream?”

RUNA

His voice turns serious—and strangely inspired.

“Are you gonna offer me the red pill now?”

LUKA

“Perhaps I will do just that.”

RUNA

“So what is this about?”

LUKA

“I think you need to see it for yourself. Have you ever had a lucid dream?”

RUNA

“You mean when you know that you’re dreaming?”

LUKA

“And when you can actively create it. Make your thoughts reality. Spawn entire worlds.” 

RUNA

“Once or twice.”

He pulls his phone and shows me an app. I read the name:

NEM

LUKA

“What I want you to do is quite simple. You download this app, you launch it. You play the recording—you need to use headphones—and then you fall asleep…”

RUNA

“...and then I dream?”

LUKA

“Yes… and no. You need to see it for yourself. We should synchronize, though. Could you go through the procedure at 9 PM? I’ll meet you there…” RUNA

“It’s not possible.”

LUKA

“Then what time do you—”

RUNA

“It’s not possible to meet in dreams, Luka. Whatever you’ve heard—”

LUKA

“I need you to forget what you know about the world, just for a moment. This software allows you to do more than just dream…”

RUNA

He points to the app on his phone.

LUKA

“It synchronizes your brainwaves with–”

RUNA

“Don’t pull this hippie pseudoscience on me.”

LUKA

“Look, Runa, just trust me, please?”

RUNA I nod. But I don’t like where this is going.

LUKA

“You launch the app. You play the recording. And then… wherever you are… you just need to find a way out.” 

RUNA

“If you want me to even consider giving it a shot, you need to do better at explaining.” 

LUKA

“In the dream, you need to find a way outside of wherever you are. Follow a road, go down the stairs…The moment you begin looking for it, the path will unfold before you.” RUNA

“If you say so…”

LUKA

“Once you’re out, you’ll reach The Chrysalis. That’s where I’ll meet you.”

RUNA 

“Chrysalis…? Like… a moth cocoon?”

LUKA

“Or butterfly. It’s a symbol. A threshold. Before the wings form. You’re still sealed shut… but everything’s already changing.”

RUNA

I don’t like how calmly he says that.

LUKA

“Like the liminal space between reality and dream. Poetic, isn’t it?”

RUNA

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard from you.”

LUKA

“I know. But trust me. It will all fall into place once you get there.”

RUNA

Something is really wrong with Luka. Maybe he got into some cult? Perhaps there’s only one way to find out.

LUKA

this is the official tumblr of nem:recall

yume 🦋 runa 🦋 ezra 🦋 luka 🦋

welcome to our corner of the internet. yes, this is real.

what is nem:recall?

NEM:Recall is a mobile game set in an alternate world much similar to ours.  Our 4 main characters, Luka, Runa, Yume, and Ezra discover a hidden dream network, called NEMspace, where they experience the wonders and mysteries of the dreamworld while experiencing their own struggles and developments. You, the Dreamer, can uncover the truths of NEMspace through a narrative story experience, RPS battles, illustrated gacha card collecting, and an interactive chat feature with the main characters in NEM:Recall.

huh, if this is a game, so why are you on tumblr?

we came to tumblr to bring the story of NEM:Recall to Dreamers who enjoy the story above all else, and connect with people in a different way. the chaos of tumblr is just too fun. (we promise to be chronically online as possible, but we're pretty chronically offline too ngl).

the chrysalis (coming soon ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ✮⋆˙)

interested to try out the game? download now:

android users

apple users

find us on the internet, if you want:

official website

instagram

tiktok

youtube

x

RUNA

INT. THE CHRYSALIS - NIGHT

RUNA

A wave of noise and color almost blows me off my feet.

I am dreaming, but this is not my dream anymore. It’s as if I’ve stumbled into someone else’s dream.

The place… the people… pure chaos. I’m bombarded by colors, sounds, and smells. And the visitors… They are all so weird.

The part of the venue I’ve wandered into looks like an elegant ballroom.

Some people wear suits, tuxedos, and fabulous dresses—but everyone is different, vibrant, like a crowd of cosplayers at a comic convention.

My chest tightens. I hate crowds. And this—this is the worst. The most intimidating crowd I’ve ever seen.

I pass a table where a group of tuxedo-wearing reptiles play poker. Stumbling forward, trying not to catch anyone’s attention.

A hand clamps over my wrist.

MAGICIAN

“And you, my young lady, must be on the lookout for an exquisite adventure, are you not?”

RUNA

I turn—and freeze, transfixed by his gaze: eyes blue, cold, and absolutely mad.

With his green bowler hat, fitted tailcoat, and neatly waxed mustache curling at the ends.

He looks like a caricature of an old film villain.

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.

The space around me crushes in from all sides at once. Pain on my skin—as if I’ve found myself trapped in a burning womb.

Everyone is looking at me now. I am terrified. Can’t speak, can’t even move—my feet feel rooted to the ground.

MAGICIAN 

“You will be just perfect. Ladies and gentlemen, this young lass ventured into our venue seeking magic. And magic she shall find!”

RUNA

“I didn’t…”

Words barely escape my lips. The crowd closes in.

I am surrounded. Twisted, grimacing faces.

All eyes on me. Stripping me. Devouring me.

CROWD

“SHE’S NEW, THAT’S FOR SURE!”

“FRESH MEAT!”

RUNA

The space around me morphs: suddenly, I’m on a small stage, and a blinding spotlight floods me from above...

MAGICIAN

“Behold, purity! Innocence!”

RUNA

…and I realize I’m wearing a dress now, white and blue, like a chaste schoolgirl in an animated film.

“I think I’d rather…”

Barely a shriek comes out of my tightened throat.

It feels like a coffin, but it gives a strange glimpse of safety—I squirm against the wooden surface behind me… feeling the weight of all their eyes.

I want to disappear. My heart skips a beat when the magician closes the lid—but it doesn’t cover my face, and I can only imagine how I…

CROWD

“LOOK AT HER FACE, SHE’S DEAD SCARED!”

CROWD

“NOOB!”

RUNA

The magician pulls a sword—an insanely large, curved sword—out of thin air.

MAGICIAN

“Ladies and gentlemen! Time for the impossible, the unfathomable!”

CROWD

“YEAH! GIVE ‘ER A GOOD ONE!”

RUNA

The magician does something I can’t see from inside the box.

I cower, pressing my back and head against the back of the coffin. Warm wood. Smell of turpentine. But it gives no comfort.

This is a bad, bad dream.

Bursts of laughter and applause erupt from the crowd. I peek out from the box… to see my own legs walking away.

The bottom half of my body is at the edge of the stage.

My foot reaches the verge—almost trips—my legs jump back and stumble.

I watch my legs tremble in terror. The crowd applauds.

LUKA

“I’d say that enough is enough. Set the lady’s legs straight back, will you?”

RUNA

This voice… I know this voice.

The scene and the box disappear. Suddenly, I’m standing again - on my own legs, which comes as a shock.

I stumble, almost fall, but someone’s hand grabs me firmly.

It’s Luka. He looks different now—taller, broader, wearing a trench coat and a fedora, tilted to the side of his head.

In his off hand, he nonchalantly holds a smoldering cigar.

LUKA

“This is the moment I offer you a drink.”

RUNA

His voice sounds coarser too. He guides me away from the grinning magician, and we cut through the crowd, heading toward the bar.

LUKA

“You need to dream yourself a persona. If you don’t dream yourself, sooner or later, someone will dream you.”

RUNA

This portion of the venue doesn’t look like a ballroom anymore.

It’s more like a tavern from a fantasy tale, with oak tables sticky with spilled liquor, and sweet stench of pipe tobacco hanging in the air.

Electric lights give way to flickering lanterns, waves of posh suits dissolve into a kaleidoscope of colorful individuals—cutthroats, sailors, wanderers.

“What is this place?”

We reach the bar. Luka waves at the bartender, then leans against the counter and flicks the ash off his cigar.

He looks comfortable, like he’s been here a thousand times before.

LUKA

“It’s all a collective dream, born from the minds of those present and connected.”

RUNA

“But how can we… meet here? How come we talk, how come I can see you... and all these people?”

LUKA

“Because we are on the internet. Only on a deeper stratum of it.”

RUNA

He leans in, eyes gleaming with excitement.

LUKA

“Imagine exploring the information network, but your dream IS the interface.”

LUKA

“That’s what the app does, it connects your dreaming brain to the network.”

RUNA

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

LUKA

“I’ve interviewed many of the people here, and that’s what they all told me.”

“I know how it sounds, but there is no better explanation.”

RUNA

“There is. I’m having a really weird dream after taking something you gave me.”

LUKA

“But tomorrow we will meet in real life. And I will refer back to you every word of what we talked about.”

“We’re on the internet, Runa. Just… differently. It’s called NEMspace.”

BARTENDER

“Whatcha want, scumbags?”

RUNA

A raspy voice chills me to the bone.

The bartender is a mountain of a man, and an intimidating one at that, with one of his arms made of solid carved wood.

And a grimaced face riddled with scars, an eye patch covering one side.

A dangerous spark twinkles in his single dark eye.

LUKA

“Two shots of the best you’ve got.”

BARTENDER

“Best? You sure you can handle it, lad?”

RUNA

The bartender spits on the floor and hobbles away to fetch our drinks.

“He’s so over the top.”

LUKA

“Yeah, he’s the epitome of cliché. It comes with the rules of this world—it needs to be a simple idea, easy to believe in.”

“He is what people expect, and that’s what keeps this place in one piece. More or less one piece.”

RUNA

Luka takes a drag from his cigar, looking around the bar, as if contemplating its colorful, constantly shifting chaos.

LUKA

“Only a strong personality can hold this place together. It gets torn in all directions by the dreams of its visitors.”

RUNA

“I was flying. I had an aviation class… and then I realized I was dreaming.”

LUKA

“That was your personal space in the dream space.”

“Like your own corner of the universe, a personal planet which you can shape at will, where you can invite other people.”

RUNA

“You have your own space too?”

LUKA

“I’ll show it to you. I prepared something special.”

RUNA

Suddenly, the space around me morphs again.

Neon lights replace the lanterns above the bar, flooding everything with a green and orange glow.

Right in front of me, the wooden counter turns to chrome.

“What’s happening?”

LUKA

“The band has arrived. They come here every Friday and play psychedelic space rock.”

RUNA

Even the bartender has changed.

His wooden arm has turned into a metal robotic limb, and the eye patch has been replaced with the cold blue glow of a cybernetic eye.

“And they do this to the whole bar?”

LUKA

“That’s because everyone loves them. That’s how power works here: if people believe in you, they dream along with your dream.”

RUNA

A wave of cheer passes through the crowd as four guitar players enter from the far side of the bar.

I cower, searching for a place to hide. I hate concerts. The crowd, the loud music bombarding my senses…

Luckily, Luka knows me well.

LUKA

“Let’s go before it gets too loud.”

EXT. OUTSIDE THE CHRYSALIS – NIGHT

RUNA

The moment we step outside The Chrysalis, I gasp for fresh air. 

The open space, the silence… and no people.

It’s a relief.

Luka guides me toward an old car parked in the driveway. A convertible: long, wide, and turquoise.

“You’re living the dream, huh?”

LUKA

“If you can dream anything, you’d better dream classic.”

.............

want to find out what happens next? support us on kofi to continue the story into nemspace ~

RUNA

EXT. SKY - DAY

RUNA

I am flying, and the world drifts below.

Forests. Meadows. Some small town, its toylike buildings radiating from a church tower perched atop a hill.

Seeing them from above comes with a thrilling sense of absolute freedom. The feeling that you can go anywhere, and nothing could stop you.

INSTRUCTOR

“Pull on the yoke. Gently.”

RUNA

I do so, feeling the slight resistance of the instrument as the plane tilts upward gracefully, climbing higher.

Gliding toward the vast blue canvas of the sky. Away from the Earth, and closer to the Sun.

I release the stick, and the plane stabilizes.

It is so calm here. Quiet, too, apart from the soft, white noise hum of the engine.

The world unfolds below: a chessboard of yellow fields and green meadows. A church tower, atop a hill.

Wait.

I just saw this tower moments ago.

Something’s wrong.

I glance at the dashboard, but the numbers make no sense. Their shapes shift, distort - impossible to read.

This is a dream. Slowly, I realize how I got here. I lay down on my bed, put on headphones, switched on that app…

LUKA 

“Great. Now you need to find the way out.”

RUNA

I turn back. The flight instructor is gone, now Luka is sitting behind me.

RUNA

“You came to my dream? Or am I just…”

Luka dissolves and disappears.

This is my dream—I try to calm myself, but it has been ages since I had a lucid dream…

…and I’m two clicks above the ground.

I don’t know what could happen if I crush myself in a dream.

Especially in a dream that’s not just a dream, but some app-induced simulation.

RUNA

My fingers wrap around the yoke. Soft leather, now sticky with sweat.

My palm slides onto the metal rod beneath the yoke’s head. Cold, solid, comforting.

FOCUS, RUNA!

I need to find a way out. Where do I fly for a way out?

It is my dream.

I can shape it. I can create a way out.

I stabilize the plane and concentrate on the horizon. I try to imagine a gate in the sky… and nothing happens—panic creeps back again…

...and then I see it, a dim, green circle above the horizon.

A hole leading out, as if the sky around me was fake, painted onto a giant globe, a set piece in a film studio.

I fly toward it.

And out, into the darkness.

EXT. THE CHRYSALIS - NIGHT

RUNA

In front of me, a huge building is flooded with light, surrounded by dozens of roads leading to it from all directions, like a hub right in the center of a vast network.

I fly down and set my machine down on one of the roads. It’s timeworn, uneven, made of cobblestone.

I notice that all the surrounding roads are different: some modern, even futuristic, others old and crumbling.

The nearest one to the left is just a narrow path leading through a dark forest.

I’m almost sure that in a distance, beyond the far side of the building, I can spot a real sandy desert.

The Chrysalis.

The neon sign blazes in bright, clashing colors—completely out of sync with the building it hangs on.

It resembles an ancient Roman theater: a barrel-like shape with massive arches stretching toward the night sky.

Beside the entrance, the strangest ensemble of vehicles is parked: a stagecoach, a single train wagon, a few horses grazing on the lawn.

I can’t decide which is more shocking—a pirate ship or a dragon chewing on a bone beside the stable.

The Chrysalis. This is the place where I was supposed to meet Luka.

And it seems to be packed—I can already hear the cacophony of loud voices and upbeat music coming from inside.

Did I mention I hate crowds?

YUME

INT. UNIVERSITY CORRIDOR - DAY

YUME

The forest looms, dark and ominous. You can only wonder what lies beyond, hidden in the shadows.

But if you look closely, you can see the tiny spirits lurking between the trees, their eyes glowing in the hollows of fallen trunks, peering from the tangled roots…

But the warrior mink is not afraid. This is a brave mink, ready for adventure.

Dressed in a flamboyant Renaissance outfit, a thin, elegant sword at its side.

Its pose I mirrored from old paintings: it evokes gallantry and grit. This is a pose of a mink who walks with courtly grace.

YUME

“The threshold of adventure”

That’s what I’m going to call it.

I take a few steps back, studying the poster I just pinned to the notice board.

Amid the bleak, faded prints and notes about boring student activities, it looks like a portal to another world.

Except for the caption: "EXHIBITION" and the date at the bottom.

Did I pick the right artwork, though? It’s a bit dark. Böcklin-esque. That is, until you see the brave mink.

I lean, slide down, and sit against the opposite wall.

A never-ending wave of students passes by—but no one stops, no one even bothers a glance.

My poster is invisible.

I am invisible.

Should have chosen something more vibrant.

People are like this now: unless it’s flashing and blinking in one thousand different colors, you won’t get their attention.

They like pulp. Showy, glittery pulp, and nothing more.

What a time to be an artist.

One guy stops in front of the poster.

I rise, excitement building up in me, one of a spider observing a fly. I creep behind him…

“I sell prints online.”

He jerks, startled.

“I have other stuff too. Lots more. Some you’ll see at the exhibition, some you won’t.”

He takes a small step back. Slipping away. I just can’t let him slip away.

I step closer, flashing the most disarming of my smiles.

“You like it?”

GUY

“It’s… cute.”

YUME

The most dull, bleak answer.

What a moron.

I want to scream at him, but I stop myself. Barely.

“Cute? That’s all you have to say?”

He shrugs, clueless.

GUY

“Cute and… fluffy, I guess?”

YUME

“I give you mystery. I give you a portal to another world, and all you can—”

GUY

“It’s a mink, right? Gotta go.”

YUME

He turns and walks off quickly, but before he vanishes around the corner, I still hear him mutter…

GUY

“...weirdo.”

YUME

I am boiling inside.

I pinch my arm, trying to quench the anger, because right now, all I want to do is tear the poster down and scream at the top of my—

LUKA

“Hello Yume.”

YUME

I jump and whirl around.

Luka, the Great Absent One, stands right behind me.

Clean shave, preppy look, holding a leather briefcase packed with books under his arm. Mr Perfect in the flesh.

Sporting a warm smile, as if he hasn’t been dodging our calls for the past two weeks.

LUKA

“Have you seen an origami bird?”

YUME

I explode.

“TWO WEEKS!!! And now you show up, no remorse, no fucks given… WHO DO YOU THINK YOU…”

“You don’t want to make the game with us then fine, we’ll be better off without…”

“AND I’M DOING A LEVEL WITH GNOMES!”

LUKA

“Wait… You’re real, aren’t you?”

YUME

Luka grabs my hand.

I freeze, surprised, knocked off my rant. His soft, warm touch on my palm feels... otherworldly.

He smiles, as if savoring the fact that I’m made of flesh.

“You better have a damn good explanation.”

LUKA

“I do. I will explain everything to you soon. I will take you to a place where it will all make sense, Yume.”

“And when I do, it is gonna be big.”

YUME

He nods, gives my palm one last reassuring squeeze, and slowly walks away.

I am so shocked that I can’t do anything, I just watch him disappear down the hall.

Freak.

I pull out my phone and dial Ezra.

EZRA

“Sup, Yume?” 

YUME

RUNA

INT. BATHROOM – DAY

RUNA It’s sheer power.

Upon ignition, the rumble passes through your body as if you were part of it. You feel the engines roar, propelling you out and beyond.

RUNA’S MOTHER “Now hold… I’ll just get this out and… hold on…”

RUNA Two times, three times, four times your body weight—the G-force squeezes the breath out of your lungs. Physics has no mercy.

...

Seventy clicks. Everything vibrates. Every bolt, every nut, throbbing as if wanting to escape. The friction against the atmosphere—outside the window, there’s nothing but a blazing inferno.

RUNA’S MOTHER “Hold her!”

RUNA One hundred clicks. The Kármán line. Beyond it comes weightlessness. You unfasten the belts and glide.

And now, finally, you can look back and see…

RUNA’S MOTHER “RUNA, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!”

RUNA “Yeah, yeah.”

My grandma’s eyes stare blankly into space.

I shift my fingers, tightening my grip on her arm.

Her mouth is open, and she looks just like some newly discovered species of deep-sea fish.

My grandma had a stroke five years ago. Since then, she’s lived with us. Every day, my mum and I take care of her. We wash her, we exercise her, we feed her, we take her to the toilet. 

She’s like one big, dry, wrinkled baby—except she doesn’t talk. Ever.

If you think about it, it’s like fighting a battle that was lost a long time ago. But if you don’t, it’s just easier.

RUNA’S MOTHER

“I’ve set her doctor’s appointment to Friday at 3 PM.”

RUNA “I have aviation class then.”

RUNA’S MOTHER “Of course you’d leave me with this. Don’t know why I thought I could count on your help.”

RUNA “Ask your sister.”

MOTHER “My sister. You really want me to—”

RUNA “Wouldn’t hurt to ask her once.”

Mum looks at me for a long moment. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but the air in the bathroom turns grey and heavy.

RUNA’S MOTHER “You’re studying to be a programmer. Not a pilot.”

She’s holding Grandma now, and I wrap her in a bathrobe. It’s pink and frotté. It looks like a coral reef, if you observe it up close.

RUNA “I don’t want to be a pilot.”

We plant her back in the wheelchair. 

Grandma looks straight at me now. Sitting in the wheelchair, wet hair, wrapped in a pink frotté bathrobe, she stares right into my eyes.

As if she knows everything. As if she understands.

Chills run down my spine.

RUNA’S MOTHER “They don’t take people like you into space. We both know why.”

RUNA My phone vibrates. I step out of the bathroom, taking the call.d

It’s Luka.

BLACK SCREEN

RUNA “Where have you been?! We’ve been trying to—”

EZRA

INT. MUSIC CONSERVATORY – DAY

EZRA

Failure. It has a taste—bitter and sticky, like snot running down your throat.

I bet you know that taste.

I didn’t—until six months ago, when I decided to learn music.

The saxophone slips in my sweaty palms as I struggle, puffing and huffing, trying to produce something even remotely close to the melody written in front of me.

It’s simple. I know it. A dumb primary school kid could nail it. But I can’t. And the fact that the whole band is watching, waiting for me to play my part so rehearsal can continue—doesn’t make it any easier.

This is a band of amateurs—some old and grizzled, some young and fresh—united by the sheer fact that they never had enough talent to go pro, yet they all find this mysterious, cheerful joy in playing nevertheless. And I’m the worst of them.

TEACHER

“You almost have it.”

EZRA

The teacher smiles encouragingly.

I nod, puff my lips… and the saxophone lets out a sound that can only be described as a loud fart.

Someone stifles a laugh.

The instrument is mocking me.

Me. Ezra. Captain of the university basketball team. Three-time high school champion.

Defeated by a brass pipe.

EXT. STREET – DAY

I slip out of the conservatory through the back door. No one I know can see me. No one I know will ever know.

I take the route through the park, running. By the time I arrive at the meeting, I’ll be panting and sweaty. Everyone knows I train all the time, and no one will question where I’ve been.

We started making the game a couple of months ago. It’s not just a passion project; we want to make it. We want to live off creating.

We finish the game. We nail it. The world opens up. Our big break.

Luka will finally bring his stories to life. Yume will showcase her insane art. Runa will program her first game.

And me? I like leading people. Motivating them. Planning the strategy. It’s a lot like leading a sports team, but now, I get to create—without being an artist.

Super cool.

INT. HACK SPACE - DAY

I slip into the co-work hack space, passing conference rooms filled with people just like me—juvenile startups, 3D printer freaks, and tech students, all fueled by public money and free coffee dispensers.

If I were an energy vampire, this is where I’d come to prey. The place is vibrant with bold dreams from people who haven’t been crushed by the system yet.

The girl in the corner by the window is Yume. She barely notices my arrival, her pencil dancing across the page in her notebook. She’s sketching. Again. Yume is always sketching. I bet she even doodles while riding a bicycle.

You see, Yume has ambition. And she craves more than just being our game’s chief artist. She’s a relentless daydreamer, midway to realizing that her bold plan of living off selling prints on the Internet will never work out. But she’s only halfway, so she keeps training. Always.

If you’re in need of whimsical concept arts of bizarre worlds populated with wonky creatures, she’s your girl. YUME

“You’re late.”

The one hunched behind a buzzing, overheating laptop, fingers darting across the keyboard, is Runa. She’s our programming wizard—the one who translates all our wild ideas into code. Privately obsessed with anything that has to do with cosmic space.

On this ship, she’s our Spock. A nerd-queen-slash-android. So you better watch yourself with sarcasm around her.

But there’s one guy missing from the room…

EZRA

“Don’t tell me he’s not here again.”

RUNA

“I called, but he’s not answering.” Luka is our writer. Best pen in the galaxy.

They say he started reading when he was three. By the time I spent my pup years running down the streets chasing a ball, this guy had already read the freaking Iliad.

When I was chasing girls, he had already written his first book. Never published, but hey—that’s where first books go to die: the file drawer.

He’d be a true genius if he had more guts to stand his ground. Sadly, our creative process often gets hijacked by Yume’s wild musings.

Because that’s the thing about Luka: he’s a people pleaser. He’s warm. He’s kind.

And right now? He’s missing.

This is weird because…

EZRA

“He’s never even been late for a meeting, and now he’s skipped two of them.”

RUNA

“I called his mum last week. She said he was sleeping. In the middle of the day.”

Yume giggles.

YUME

“Maybe he started doing drugs.”

EZRA

“Yeah, I bet he’s doing research, dropping spice to write our game’s main character better. The plot will finally fit your dope artworks, Yume.”

Runa shakes her head.

RUNA

“I don’t think Luka would do that.”

EZRA

Runa’s so great with computers cause she’s one of them. Did I already mention you should be careful with sarcasm around her?

“Of course he wouldn’t do that, this guy gets dizzy after one beer. Could he have, like… found a girlfriend or something?”

YUME

“That’s it! He’s writing poetry, serenading under his beloved’s balcony.”

RUNA

“That, he would do. But he would have told me if he met someone.”

YUME

“Anyway, I made some new concept art.”

EZRA

She flips open her sketchbook, revealing a set of drawings—small humanoids with bulky heads, carrying tableware as weapons.

They look fierce… and ridiculous.

“Gnomes, huh?”

She glares at me, looking offended.

YUME

“Faeries. Or elves, if you like.”

EZRA

“You sure this is for our game?”

What we’re making is something between a detective story and a horror. Imagine a hardboiled detective shaman who talks to spirits to solve a serial murder case in 1950s New York.

Pretty wild, huh? That’s what you get when you clash Luka’s seriousness with Yume’s madness—and I love the result.

YUME

“We could have a whole level full of these.”

EZRA

“Like… Gulliver?”

YUME

“Or we could resize the main character. Temporarily. You know, Alice in Wonderland.”

EZRA

Oh my god.

And this is why you don’t let visual artists near the plot.

RUNA

“Luka would never approve this.”

YUME

“Good thing he’s not here, then.”

RUNA

“We shouldn’t discuss plot without him.”

EZRA

“Listen, Yume…”

YUME

“You don’t like them.”

EZRA

I wouldn’t be the creative director if I didn’t know how to handle my talented artists’ fragile egos.

Watch and learn.

“No, Yume. You’re dead wrong.”

“I love them. This here – it’s pure gold. It’s fresh, it’s funny, it’s cute. It’s something people will pay for.”

YUME

“Screw you, Ezra. Don’t try to manipulate me, ‘cause you suck at it.”

EZRA

Alright, time for a change of tactics. 

“I don’t think they fit the game-”

YUME

“That’s ‘cause you”re not a visual artist.”

EZRA

“...but they’re funny enough to go viral. You could sell prints, t-shirts, merchandise. But if we use them for the game they’re locked under copyright. Two, three years, until release, you can’t show them anywhere.”

She nods slowly. I think I hit the right note this time. 

YUME

“Ok. You don’t like them. I’ll take them elsewhere. Where people appreciate art.”

EZRA

That’s how it’s done. 

I just hope she won’t go overboard. I don’t want to be drinking from a gnome mug for the next year.

YUME

“I have some other ideas, though.”

EZRA

Screw me…

I turn to Runa.

“We need Luka. Like, now. Can you do that?”

RUNA

“I could hack into the mobile system and track his phone.”

EZRA

Did she just… joke?

No. She’s dead serious.

“Let’s exhaust the legal options first.”

LUKA

EXT. STREET – DAY

It’s a cold, damp night, and I’m on the street. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know where I’m going. But it’s raining. And I like rain.

So I walk on, wandering the city, cutting through the homogeneous crowd of empty faces and gray suits. Puddles of rainwater reflect the neon lights, like we’re all walking on a liquid rainbow. It’s dreamlike.

I pause, noticing something strange in front of me.

An origami bird, folded from white paper.

It lies in the middle of the pavement. Eerily white, seemingly untouched by the surrounding water and mud.

I stare at the origami bird. The origami bird stares back at me, and all other senses fade, the bustle of the street evaporates, as I focus on it, wondering…

A thousand thoughts race through my mind at once—what does it mean? Does it mean anything at all? Did someone just drop it… or did someone leave it? A clue? A detective mystery waiting to be solved?

I squat to pick it up…

…but the moment my fingers are about to touch the origami bird, the whole world pivots, and everything tilts and shifts and my legs fly up – am I flying now?!

Contours and colors dissolve, bleeding together like a vibrant stain of machine oil.