Just a Guy and a Gate to the Multiverse - Chapter 14 (Patreon)

Chapter 14 - Experiencing life

Times Square was about fifteen minutes away on foot. After buying a prepaid SIM card, it was still the good old times of throwaway phones without needing to show an ID for a new number, I followed my phone at first, but after a few blocks, I barely needed it.

The crowds grew thicker and the buildings brighter, making my goal unmissable. Then I turned a corner and stepped into a place that looked like someone had taken daylight, advertisements, and chaos, then mixed them in a giant blender.

Huge screens covered the buildings. They flashed with clothing ads, movie trailers for the new Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, news headlines, smiling faces, perfume bottles, and things I could not even process before they changed.

Tourists stopped everywhere to take pictures. People in costumes posed with children. A man painted silver from head to toe stood still like a statue until someone dropped money in his bucket. Then he moved with a sharp robotic motion that made a nearby woman scream and laugh at the same time.

I slowly turned in a circle, trying to take it all in.

It was ridiculous.

It was also amazing.

Everything was so different from the Wasteland and so alive.

It was just history somewhere down the line taking a different path.

A man standing beside me lifted his camera and snapped a photo of the screens. He was older, maybe in his sixties, with a baseball cap and a sunburned nose.

“First time?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “You too?”

“Nope. Our third. My wife loves this place.”

An older woman beside him, probably his wife, rolled her eyes. “I like the theaters. He likes pretending he doesn’t like anything.”

“I don’t pretend,” he said. “I just give my honest opinion.”

I laughed. “That sounds fair.”

The woman took the camera from her husband and held it out to me. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”

“Sure, I can do that.”

I took the bulky digital camera and backed up carefully, trying not to step into anyone’s way. They stood together with the bright screens behind them, the man looking serious until his wife elbowed him. Then he smiled. I took three pictures just in case.

“Perfect,” she said after checking them. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“It was no problem.”

“Where are you from?” the man asked.

I told him. It was not like they would actually confirm it with my fake ID, and he nodded like he had expected that exact answer.

“Well, Matt from Germany,” he said, “watch your pockets around here, and don’t buy anything from anyone who walks up to you with a CD.”

“Do people still sell CDs?” I blurted out before I remembered what year it was.

“Sure, why wouldn’t they? Altough those are unlicensed fakes. They’ll sell you anything if you look like you might buy it.”

His wife smacked his arm lightly. “Don’t scare him.”

“I’m not scared,” I said. “Just slightly more alert.”

They laughed, and after a short goodbye, they disappeared into the crowd. It was a small conversation, barely more than a few minutes, but it made the city feel a little less like a machine and more like a place full of people living their own separate stories.

A real experience.

Yet none of them had any idea where I had already been or where I would go in the future. All of this felt so mundane but great at the same time. I feel so free.

I wandered through Times Square for nearly an hour. I went into a souvenir shop and stared at shelves full of mugs, magnets, hoodies, tiny Statue of Liberty figures, and shirts that announced I loved New York before I had even decided whether the city liked me back. I bought one of those tiny figures and a postcard.

Some souvenirs to make my place feel more like a home sounded like a great idea.

Outside, my stomach reminded me that I had not eaten anything beyond a bit of food paste since I got here, and I was already planning to eat something real. Something with meat that didn’t come from a radioactive mutant. It's been over 2 years since I had some.

Remembering Elena’s advice, I found a street cart with a yellow and blue umbrella. The smell of grilled meat and onions drifted through the air, cutting through the exhaust fumes and warm pavement.

The vendor was a middle-aged man with a thick mustache and quick hands.

“What do you want, my friend?” he asked.

I looked at the menu. “What’s good?”

One experience I took with me as a Chef, they know best.

“Chicken over rice. Always good.”

“Then I’ll take that.”

“White sauce? Hot sauce?”

“White sauce. A little hot sauce.”

He looked at me for half a second. “Little?”

“Little.”

He grinned. “Tourist little or New York little?”

“There’s a difference?”

“Big difference.”

“Tourist little, then.”

“Smart man.”

He prepared the food quickly, chopping, scooping, and folding the container closed like he had done it a million times. I paid him and took the warm box to a small standing table nearby.

The first bite was simple, hot, and better than I expected. The sauce was creamy, the rice was soft, and the hot sauce still made my eyes water even though I had chosen “tourist little.”

The vendor noticed and laughed. “Too much?”

“No,” I said, coughing once. “I’m just appreciating it strongly.”

I had completely forgotten the thrill of some proper hot sauce. There had been none in the wasteland, the concept completely forgotten after the bombs fell. Why wouldn’t it be? They needed food to survive, so what was the point of growing food that hurt you a little for the fun, if you didn’t have enough to eat?

“That is one way to say it.”

While I ate, a young woman with a backpack stepped up beside me and opened her own food container. She had short black hair, round glasses, and a camera hanging from her neck. She glanced at my face and smiled.

“He got you with the hot sauce?”

“Tourist little,” I said.

She nodded seriously. “A dangerous level.”

“You speak from experience?”

“Last year. I learned. Now I respect the sauce.”

Her name was Nina. She was from Canada, a version of Canada that didn’t swear revenge on the Americans, traveling alone for a week before starting a new job. She had already been in New York for three days and had strong opinions about bagels, museum lines, and which subway stations smelled the worst.

“I’m trying to do the classic sights today,” I said. “Times Square, Bryant Park, the library, and Grand Central.”

“That’s a good route,” she said. “I’m actually heading toward Bryant Park now. Want company for a few blocks?”

I hesitated for only a second. Meeting strangers in a new city, a new world, considering my situation, felt strange. I was probably overthinking things. Nothing spoke against meeting some normal people unblemished by war. That was what I was here for, among other things. Just experiencing normal life, even if this wouldn’t become a long-lasting connection.

“Sure,” I decided. “That would be nice.”

We threw away our empty containers and joined the moving crowd. Nina walked with the confidence of someone who had already made her first mistakes in the city and survived them.

“First rule,” she said, “don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk.”

“I learned that one five minutes after arriving.”

“Good. Second rule, don’t trust distances on the map. Everything looks close until your feet start complaining.”

“My feet are already suspicious.” But that probably wouldn’t be much of a problem for me. I was fit, like seriously fit. After my Stimpak training montage, I had muscles and a real six-pack. Something I hadn’t expected to ever have.

“Then they’re smarter than most tourists.”

We walked past theaters, shops, and office buildings. The energy shifted as we moved away from Times Square. It was still busy, still loud, but less overwhelming. People hurried by with coffee cups, work bags, and focused expressions.

I began to notice more details. Steam rising from a metal grate. A dog wearing tiny shoes. A delivery man balancing three large bags like it was nothing. A woman in a suit eating a slice of pizza while walking fast enough to pass everyone around her.

Bryant Park appeared between the buildings like a small green pause button.

After the noise and flashing lights of Times Square, the park felt almost calm. People sat at small tables under umbrellas. Some read books. Others ate lunch, talked, or stared at their phones. Quite a few actually had the first iPhone, even though it had only just been released. The lawn was bright and open, and behind it, the tall buildings still rose in every direction, reminding me that this peaceful little space existed in the middle of one of the busiest places in the world.

“I like this,” I said.

“Everyone likes Bryant Park,” Nina replied. “It’s hard not to.”

We found two empty chairs near the edge of the lawn. For a few minutes, we just sat there. I watched a man teach a small child how to throw breadcrumbs to pigeons, even though a sign clearly asked people not to feed them. Nearby, two older women played chess with serious expressions. One of them moved a piece, leaned back, and said something that made the other woman burst out laughing.

“New York is different from what I expected,” I said.

Nina looked at me. “How?”

“I thought it would feel colder. Less personal. But people keep talking to me.”

“That’s because you look harmless and lost.”

I hummed, not commenting. Honestly, I was anything but harmless. Lost, maybe. But I was probably the deadliest person in this entire city, if not the world. Although I wasn’t one hundred percent certain about that. At least I was somewhere near the top when it came to danger.

She laughed, not having realized why I didn’t answer that. “People here can be direct, but that doesn’t mean they’re unfriendly. They just don’t have time for extra steps.”

I thought about the man who told me to keep moving, Elena at the hotel, the couple in Times Square, the food cart vendor, and now Nina. Direct was a good word for it. No one wrapped anything in too much politeness, but that made the friendly moments feel more honest.

After Bryant Park, we walked to the New York Public Library. The building stood with quiet confidence, guarded by two stone lions at the front. I had seen pictures before, but the real thing was more impressive. The steps were wide, the columns tall, and the whole place looked like it belonged to another time.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. I wouldn’t be able to march in there and just scan their books. They would throw me out.

Not that I needed to. I could actually buy them now. Maybe building a small library would be a nice idea?

There was a difference between reading on a laptop or tablet and reading a physical book.

“Tourist moment?” Nina asked.

“Definitely.”

“Take your time.”

I took pictures of the lions, the front of the building, and then one awkward selfie where half my face was cut off. Nina saw my phone and looked at it with interest.

“That doesn’t look like the new iPhone. Here, let me take one for you.”

“It isn’t. It’s still an experimental model. Not released to the public.”

I made up a quick excuse, having completely missed how much I would stand out with a modern smartphone that wouldn’t be released for another decade. I handed it over without protest. She stepped back, crouched slightly, and took a much better picture of me with the library behind me.

“The quality is really good. Are you working for a tech company or something? There!” she said. “Proof you were here and not just using stock photos.”

“Thank you. My future memories appreciate it. And you could say I work in tech.” Scrapping and collecting technology from different worlds was kind of part of my business. If I ever had one.

Thankfully, she got the hint that I didn’t want to talk more about it.

Inside, the library was beautiful in a way that made me lower my voice without thinking. Marble floors, high ceilings, arches, lamps, and long corridors gave the place a serious, almost sacred feeling.

We wandered quietly, following signs and other visitors. In one reading room, people sat beneath painted ceilings and glowing lamps, working in complete silence while tourists like me tried not to disturb them.

I imagined myself actually coming here and trying to scan those books to add to my collection. I would look so out of place. Just a normal library, one that hadn’t been destroyed by nuclear bombs like in the wasteland or controlled by the military like in Fullmetal Alchemist.

“You’re doing it again,” Nina whispered.

“What?”

“Looking at everything like you’re in a movie.”

“I kind of am,” I whispered back, leaving a large part unsaid. This was so different from the last four and a half years of my life. It would take some time to adapt.

She smiled. “Fair.”

From the library, Grand Central Terminal was only a short walk away. I knew it was a train station, but that description felt too small when I stepped inside. The main concourse opened up in front of me, wide and bright, with a ceiling painted like the night sky. People crossed the floor in every direction, but somehow, the space swallowed the chaos and turned it into motion.

I stood near the center and slowly looked around.

The information booth clock. The tall windows. The rush of commuters. The tourists taking photos. The sound of footsteps, announcements, and distant train brakes.

A place for people to travel freely. Actual vehicles meant for the people, not machines of war.

It was not just a station. It was a stage, and everyone passing through had a part.

An older man in a dark coat stood nearby, watching me with amusement.

“First time seeing the ceiling?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Is it that obvious?”

“You stopped walking. Around here, that means tourist or trouble. You don’t look like trouble.”

“That’s good to hear.” Yet I couldn’t believe that they couldn’t see the danger. There was no way my confidence hadn’t changed. I had killed humans.

He pointed upward. “Most people forget to look up. Shame, really.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Every weekday for thirty-two years. Used to take the train to work. Now I’m retired, but sometimes I come anyway.” He shrugged. “Old habits. And the coffee downstairs is still decent.”

“That’s kind of nice,” I said.

“It is. A city changes fast. Places like this make it feel like some things stay put.”

His name was Mr. Alvarez. He told us he had worked in an office near Wall Street, raised two daughters in Queens, and still believed the best pizza in the city came from a place that looked “ugly enough to be trusted.” He gave me the name, made me repeat it, then warned me not to order anything with pineapple unless I wanted to be judged by everyone in the building.

I fully agreed with that sentiment. Pineapple on pizza was a crime.

“I’ll remember that,” I said.

“Good. New York forgives many things, but not all things.”

After he left, Nina checked the time and winced.

“I’m meeting someone at the Met,” she said. “I should go.”

“Oh, sure,” I said.

It surprised me that I felt a little disappointed. We had only spent part of an afternoon together, yet she was the first person in years I had just had some normal fun with. Not someone looking at me as a leader or walking wonder.

She adjusted her backpack. “It was nice meeting you, Matt.”

“You too. Thanks for guiding me through my first few tourist mistakes.”

“You still have many more ahead of you.”

“That’s encouraging.”

She grinned. “That’s New York.”

We exchanged numbers, more as travelers than close friends, with the casual promise that maybe we would meet again if our plans crossed. Then she disappeared into the stream of people heading toward the subway.

Maybe I would meet her again. New York wasn’t the only place I was planning to visit.

For the first time since arriving, I was alone without feeling lost.

I left Grand Central and walked without a strict plan. The afternoon light had started to change, and it was beginning to get late. I finally started to feel the exhaustion from my journey. I thought it was time to get back to the hotel and get some good rest.

It had been years since I slept in a fresh and modern bed. The ones I transmuted just couldn’t compare with the work of professionals.

Getting some real beds here for my home also sounded like a great idea…

[ End of the Chapter ]

AN: That's the Chapter! I hope a bit of Slice of Life and Character Development in contrast to the harsh realities of the Wasteland isn't dissappointing.