Counting to Infinity

Chapter 4

The city of Marque was jarringly different from Raine's expectations. Given the state of most developed countries in the 21st century, he was expecting something similar in Kosira. Maybe not quaint, suburban neighbourhoods filled with parks and greenery, but at least the modern architecture that most buildings and facilities adopted nowadays.

Instead, a strikingly grey town closely resembling a stereotypical Victorian town during the Industrial Revolution met his eyes. Everything was either made of cobbled stone, rotting wood, or metal frames that were rusted an orange-brown from the sea salt.

Children ran along the brick streets, playing a foreign game unfamiliar to Raine. They were playing outside instead of... uh, whatever kids did these days. Watching YouTube, probably. Raine wasn't really fond of people younger than him, so he wasn't too sure of the popular trends that younger teens followed. Now that he thought about it, it made him feel terribly old, despite only being in his early twenties. Was he really that old? If he was feeling like this so early, he wasn't keen on entering his mid-life crisis.

As the ship — which was in much better condition than Marque — pulled into the docks, Raine spotted some kids staring at him. Even though he was still comfortably seated within the safety of his room, Raine still felt like he was being pierced through with their judging looks.

I'm practically drowning in your melancholy. What's the problem?

I hate kids.

I see where the sentiment comes from.

This is the first time that we've shared an opinion. Shall we celebrate the occasion?

You act so nice and innocent towards everyone, but then you turn around and become a master of sarcasm when it comes to me. Am I the only one who has to suffer from the truth of your devilish nature?

Pfft. I only treat you differently because you're a pain in my side.

...I don't feel that special.

You'll warm up to it eventually, Raine laughed. Oh, I just had a great idea to make you feel at home.

Not again, Nikolay groaned. I've had enough of your ideas.

To make it less obvious of who's in control, we should imitate each other's accents. I'll go first.

Tell me why I have an impending premonition of a terrible English accent.

I have a mean British accent. Just listen, Raine mentally cleared his throat for dramatic effect. I'm chuffed to bits, seriously mate-

That's enough from you, Nikolay sighed. The term 'chuffed' wasn't even slang in the 1600s.

Irrelevant. I'll take any chance to insult the British. And you, obviously.

For the last time, I'm not actually Bri-

You say that in the most British accent possible.

If you had just quoted some Russian proverbs, this would have been a completely different conversation.

Look, Nikolay, I read Crime and Punishment a single time when I was 17. I know nothing about Russian proverbs.

I'll give you one. Иди на хуй means 'the sunflowers turn when a saint walks past'.

Nice try. I have enough non-white friends to know when someone's bullshitting me.