A Small Country

YAY! Prologue done. Now the writing can begin.

For those of you interested:
Hamlet - Hadrian
Horatio - Sebastian
Brandon - Laertes
Cassius - Rosencrantz
Rune - Guildenstern


Normally the bar was quiet. Normally the flashing lights and the haunting, pulsing melodies played for one solitary person. With the upcoming break, however, the students of Elsinore College flooded the small bar, leaving behind their virtual reality games, their unused new chat handles, new role-playing boards. Left them behind for a night of real physical human contact.

‘What a prison. A world where it is better to recognize someone by their handle, rather then by their face.’ Hadrian Denmark thought bitterly to himself. On most nights it was for him the music played as he sat at the bar. He was a dreamer. While most people were wishing for faster modems, or the newest VR game, Hadrian longed to see the stars, to feel the grass. The twenty two year old was 5’7, and thin as a rake. His full and curly red hair just barely tumbled over his shoulders, curtaining his face and his piercing blue eyes, which were soulful and melancholy. On most nights his trips to the nightclub were peaceful, blessed, nights away from the hum of computers and the roar of games, but he soon found himself wishing that he had gone up to his room when he saw the crowd in the bar. He was already bruised, his hair tousled from being shoved this way and that, and someone had already managed to spill something on his favorite white button-up shirt and blue slacks. He let out a deep sigh and crumpled forward onto the bar, dropping his face to hide behind his arms.

“What about you, Prince Denmark? What do you think?” Hadrian lifted his head to gaze on his companions.

How long had they been talking to him?

Brandon was a bit shorter than Hadrian, but he was definitely more muscular, stockier in build. His hair was cut short and the brown color was sometimes hard to see through the fuzz, but it did bring out his deep-set hazel eyes. He was the son of a man called Simon, advisor to Hadrian’s father. Brandon also had a sister named Anthea, who was not permitted to come to Elsinore: her up-tight father wanted her home, lest she turn out like her mother. Brandon and Hadrian had met at Elsinore, shocked that they hadn’t met while walking the halls of the White House. They had become good friends, and Brandon was teaching Hadrian how to use a sword outside of the Virtual Reality consoles.

Rune and Cassius were brothers, and the dark-haired boys had grown up with Hadrian. They had lived next to each other all of their childhoods, and when Audric ran for President, who better to be his second in command than their father, Dillan. There was very little that the two rowdy, ambitious boys didn’t know about Hadrian, but as his eyes fell upon the last in the group, Hadrian was reminded of the few secrets he did have.

Sebastian sat directly to Hadrian’s right, he almost always did. He was 6’ foot, but just as lanky and thin as Hadrian. His gold blond hair was short and disheveled, spiked up and tossed all over the place, even the small goatee under his thin, poetic lips looked messy. His hawk eyes scanned Hadrian’s as the boy continued to stare. Sebastian and Hadrian had met during Hadrian’s second year at Elsinore, where they were both taking a course in Ancient Philosophy. They were soon spending their lunches together, talking in heated passion about the ‘old ways’, and anything else they could think of. They took turns in hosting debates in their rooms, debates that started out with near to fifteen students attending, but soon dwindling down to just Hadrian and Sebastian. The boys didn’t mind however, for their philosophical relationship soon became more than just mental stimulation. They kept their share of secrets from the other three, making sure to meet when they knew they wouldn’t be bothered. Hadrian became vaguely aware of his urge to leap upon Sebastian as his thoughts drifted: perhaps it was the alcohol.

They were a rowdy crew, but Hadrian loved them all dearly.

“Hello, Hadrian? Are you in there?” Laughed Brandon heartily, leaning over Sebastian to look at Hadrian. Brandon knew that Hadrian hadn’t heard a word they had just said, the boy was probably daydreaming about gardens and waterfalls. Either that or he was thinking about Anthea, who just last night had told Brandon how close she had become with Hadrian. Brandon couldn’t help but chuckle every time he thought about what their marriage would be like.

“What do I think about what?” Hadrian said finally, reluctantly giving in to the pious looks of his fellows.

“Do you think the U.K will attack us?” Rune asked, giving Cassius a shove as the boy leaned in front of him to flirt with a brunette. Rune rolled his eyes, his brother had only one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t virtual reality.

“How do we always manage to get ourselves into these political debates?” Hadrian sighed as he tapped the bar with a few fingers, signaling to the bartender that he wanted a refill. “Just because my father is President doesn’t mean I want to talk politics all the time.”

“Uh oh, here we go.” Mumbled Cassius, slumping over in preparation for the speech he knew was coming. He adored Hadrian’s dreamy ways and ideas, but the boy just never shut his mouth, never let himself have any fun. Cassius chuckled as Sebastian smacked him over the head.

“Moan all you want, Cassius, I want to get my opinion out there.” Hadrian downed another shot. “In fact, I want this whole bar to hear me.” Hadrian suddenly turned and leapt up onto his bar stool.

“Hadrian!” Sebastian and Rune cried, but laughed all the same. They all knew that Hadrian was smashed, or at least well on his way to becoming so. Rune shook his head as Hadrian began to wave his arms in the air for attention, the poor boy was going to get himself into serious trouble one of these days.

“Everyone, everyone listen to me! Listen!” Hadrian cried, his tongue feeling thick and limp in his mouth, but he had a point to make, and the lost youth of Elsinore needed to hear it most. “In the past two hundred years humanity, as a race, has progressed further than even the wildest of imaginations could have imagined.” Sebastian shook his head and cast a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the bar. Hadrian had a way with people, that was certain, and those that weren’t captivated by him were just curious by nature. In any case the bar fell nearly silent, and all eyes were locked upon the boy on the bar top.

“We are now, essentially, two powers: The U.K, and us. Of course we still have those other three, but they’re neutral, so they don’t count. However it still amazes me that all we are relies on computers, on technology. It astounds me that we’ve become so dependent on our machines that a day without them would kill us. It buffounds me-“ Hadrian paused and looked at Sebastian. “Is buffounds a word?” He asked, smirking as the rest of the bar revved up into a dull chuckle.

“I think you meant to say baffles.” Sebastian whispered. Brandon reached over and gave Sebastian a playful shove as he raised his drink.

“You should have told him it was. I would’ve loved to see the look on his Professor’s face when he used ‘buffounds’ in one of his extra-long papers.” The boys turned their attention back to Hadrian as he cleared his throat, apparently having caught up with his train of thought.

“It baffles me that all we talk about are movies, games, technology, and politics when our last forests lay dying. When we’re all slowly starting to face the reality that our scientists are right: in forty years we won’t be able to live here, nothing will! We’ll all be carted off to our spaceports, our moon domes, like refugees. And yet will still ramble on about politics! Politics! Never-changing politics, boring politics, dull politics, repetitious politics. If you don’t believe me go read a history book, you’ll see. Make a prediction yourselves, based on what you read, and you’ll see. Politics are the same, and will be the same, until all human kind dies of disease and war.” Hadrian paused for a moment to bend over and pick up his drink, quickly downing the last bit. “And just for the record, the relationship between my father and King Roldan is like that of two brothers. The U.K wouldn’t dare try anything. Thank you.”

As Sebastian helped Hadrian down off the bar top, Brandon stood and joined the rest of the bar that had fallen into laughter and applause. The students went back to their meaningless conversations and affairs as Hadrian sat down once more.

“Well said, old boy.” Cassius laughed, reaching over and giving Hadrian’s arm a pat. “And here I was expecting some long-winded apocalyptic speech!”

“You mean that wasn’t long winded?” Chuckled Rune, giving Hadrian a small wink from over the rim of his glass.

“How about you, Sebastian?” Brandon prodded as he elbowed the boy in the ribs. “Us or the U.K?”

“Well, frankly I think we’ve got the power to blast the U.K to the moon, but King Roldan appointing his nephew Reginald instead of his son was not a smart move. Reginald is brash, bold, and too arrogant to realize we’ve already got him beat. So it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he tried something stupid.” Sebastian finished softly as he reached over and put a hand over Hadrian’s, stopping the boy from tapping for another refill. The two boys met eyes and conversed in their own, silent way as Cassius broke into a long monologue full of ‘I’ and ‘me’s. Sebastian was worried, he knew that Hadrian hated to be drunk, in fact he rarely drank, but Hadrian was in one of his moods, and wanted to be smashed beyond all coherent thought.

“-he does. The relationship between Roldan and Audric is too strong.” Rune finished, twirling his toothpick in his soda. His brother chuckled and turned to talk with Brandon, who was much more versed in politics. Rune had never really gotten into the whole politics thing. He wasn’t a dreamer like Hadrian, he just found the whole thing too complicated. To talk about politics, to be involved in politics, one had to understand what they were talking about, one had to watch the debates. Rune wasn’t about to watch the debates, they went on for far too long, and they took away from his gaming time.

“Whatever you say, Brandon. You know, you’re starting to sound like your father.” Cassius laughed, shaking his head at his companion. Brandon tried to look at every situation from both points of view, it was a good strategy, made him seem intelligent and well-thought out, the only problem was he went through both sides out loud, making him seem like a mental patient talking with himself. His father wasn’t that bad, but he was one of the biggest hypocrites Cassius had ever met.

“Excuse me.” Cassius turned his head as a pretty, youthful voice brushed past his ear. She was about his height with long blond hair, and blue eyes. She wore a skimpy silver dress, and earrings twice the size of her ears.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to have a-“

“Dance? I’d love to.” Cassius finished, turning and standing.

“Actually, I was going to suggest a match.” Cassius paused for a moment, and then noticed the badge he couldn’t believe he had missed. The large triangular object was a dark blue in color, and clearly symbolized that the young beauty was a master swordsman in the VR ring called ‘Camelot.’

“Oh, oh I see.” Cassius smirked, wrapping his arm over her waist. “The feisty type.” He turned his head over his shoulder as they started out. “See you boys later, I’ve got me a date.” He held tight to the young girl’s waist, as they started out of the bar towards the small Virtual Reality center just outside the bar doors.

Brandon sighed and scooted over to take Cassius’ seat next to Rune.

“He’s a character, your brother.”

“Tell me about it. When he was four he liked to steal our dad’s old leaf blower to flip up the skirts of the girls.” Brandon raised his eyebrows, but had to admit it sounded like Cassius.

“Are you alright, Hadrian?” Sebastian asked, watching as Brandon took up a chair next to Rune. Sebastian looked back over at Hadrian, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder.

“I’m fine, Sebastian.” Hadrian mumbled, sitting up a bit straighter and running a hand through his hair. “I’m drunk, and I’m going to hate myself in the morning, but I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, and you’re not a good liar.” Sebastian said in a soothing, yet stern voice as he tried to hold Hadrian’s gaze. He knew that for Hadrian to turn to alcohol like this that something was up, and he knew the boy certainly was not ‘fine.’

Hadrian looked up and found Sebastian’s eyes waiting for his. He turned his gaze a bit, finding Sebastian’s hand on his shoulder: a warm hand. He sighed and shook his head, reaching up to put his own hand atop Sebastian’s.

“Do you want to go back to the room and talk about it?” Sebastian suggested quietly, looking around in an anxious sort of way, and giving Hadrian’s shoulder a light squeeze. When he turned back to Hadrian’s eyes he found them slightly hopeful, dreamy almost. Hadrian nodded, and Sebastian stood, wrapping his arm over the boy’s waist and helping him out of Stratford-on-Avon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Easy, Hadrian, give your feet time to catch up.” Sebastian said in a soothing, yet firm voice. His left arm was bound tightly around Hadrian’s waist, fingers digging into the soft white silk of his shirt. One of Hadrian’s arms was draped over Sebastian’s shoulders, and Sebastian’s free hand was holding Hadrian’s wrist, preventing the boy from choking him every time they stumbled. Sebastian knew now that something very heavy was weighing upon Hadrian, aside from his loathe of drinking Hadrian also felt strongly about keeping his dignity, and being led down the hallway like a drunkard was hardly dignified. Sebastian’s face contorted into one of worry, his eyebrows meeting in pain as Hadrian moaned again, a soft, rueful sound.

Hadrian took a deep breath and found himself wishing the air was cooler. He longed to drag a slow, deep breath of icy air, to fill his lungs with a cold so sharp it hurt. There was an overbearing, yet soft numbness in his whole body. Aside from the acidic churning of his stomach, he could feel nothing.

As he continued to stumble blindly down the hall he had a profound thought: perhaps now, heavily under the influence of alcohol, he could forget the mechanics of the Center Garden, and fall into his dreams of touching the real grass, smelling the real flowers.

Sebastian frowned, tightening his fingers on Hadrian’s side for a moment, loosing his hold on him. Sebastian had decided to give Hadrian a few more minutes, since he knew that Hadrian was unaware of the fact that he had stopped walking quite some time ago. Sebastian knew the strange, numbing effects of alcohol, and knew time was all he could give to Hadrian at the moment. It didn’t stop him from wishing there was more he could do, however. He wished he could prevent the self-loathing that he knew was coming, he wished he could lift away the weight pressing down on Hadrian. It wasn’t often that Hadrian did this to himself, but whenever he did Sebastian suffered more than Hadrian himself. It cut Sebastian deep to know that Hadrian only did it when he was worried, when there was something he was trying to forget, and he did it instead of talking to Sebastian. Why couldn’t he just talk about it? Hadrian loved to talk. He loved those self-discovering, deep philosophical debates, but not when it concerned him directly. Hadrian told Sebastian over and over again that he trusted him, but Sebastian doubted it: If he was trusted, why did Hadrian keep these things from him?

“Hadrian?” Sebastian implored, giving Hadrian’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Th-the Center Garden.” Slurred Hadrian as he tried to pivot, but only succeeded in tripping himself up and falling against Sebastian’s chest. Hadrian’s conscious was shrouded in a heavy fog, he couldn’t think straight, and though he couldn’t feel anything physically he felt the strong urge to see the garden like a dagger in his back.

‘If I can just….. If in the garden…’

Sebastian sighed and turned Hadrian around slowly to face the glass doors, which lead into the center of the Elsinore building, and the Center Garden. He knew he should have just ignored Hadrian and taken him back to his room, but he also knew how impossible Hadrian could be, and knew there would be no talking him out of it. He led them both slowly through the glass doors and up to the Center Garden.

It was a huge simulation, one of the biggest in the U.S., some of the trees nearly reached the top of the building. The ground was completely overcast in a springy green grass, which never dried brown, no matter what the temperature and humidity. A trickling spring ran from the front to the back, pouring down the platform stairs into a small moat. Amidst the beautiful foliage, in the very center of the garden sat a marvelous limestone gazebo.

Hadrian, suddenly overcome with his urgency to feel the grass, shoved away from Sebastian. It was like walking through a vacuum of thick water, but somehow the drunken boy made it to the stairs, and up three of the seven before falling flat on his face. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that it should have hurt, he knew that somehow the alcohol had numbed the pain which brought tears to his eyes. No time for those thoughts though, he had to make it to the top of the platform. He felt soft hands on his shoulders, trying to help him up, but he shrugged them off. He could do it just fine on his own.

Sebastian took a few steps back, trying to subdue his rising anger. If Hadrian didn’t want help, fine. If he didn’t want to talk, fine. Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest with a slight huff of angry air. The boy couldn’t stay angry for long, for sight of Hadrian struggling up the stairs made him ache. He lowered his arms and moved forward again, readying himself to catch Hadrian if need be.

Hadrian paused in confusion. He knew his legs were under him, he remembered pulling them up, but he could no longer feel them. He tensed up, trying to find the muscles he needed to work in order to move in the desired direction, but his attempts were fruitless. He couldn’t recall exactly where those muscles were, or how to use them. However his urge to see the garden overpowered his misplaced muscles and he somehow made it over the last step and into the garden. He decided to rest for a moment, exhausted from his climb.

Sebastian didn’t even try to hold back as he bolted up the stairs to Hadrian’s side. The image of Hadrian struggling up the stairs in that uncoordinated way reminded Sebastian of a child being born, most especially the way he fell into a fetal position after the ordeal, curled up and panting heavily. Sebastian couldn’t just leave him there, on his side like a vegetable, and he reached out to help him up once more.

“Just.. Just one more minute, Sebastian.” Hadrian said as clearly as he could with his tongue anchored to the bottom of his mouth. Then, with Sebastian’s help, he flipped to sit up on his knees. He slowly moved his eyes from the bare platform to the grass just inches in front of him. The beautiful grass, the succulent, marvelous grass. His body began to quiver from exhaustion, from sickness, but he paid it no mind. He slowly extended his arm, fingers splayed, groping at the empty air for the brilliant green before them.

Sebastian shuddered as Hadrian reached out for the grass in such an agonizing manner, his body thumping like the heart of a child. Sebastian sat down next to Hadrian as his body convulsed, and reached up to hold back Hadrian’s red locks as the boy lurched forward and promptly got sick, covering the simulated grass in a vile liquid. Maintaining his hold on Hadrian’s hair, Sebastian fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the boy once he had finished.

Hadrian slowly took the object offered to him, and spit a few times before wiping his mouth clean. He sat up all the way and gently tossed his head back, feeling Sebastian release his hair, feeling the strands crawl down his back. His body was shaking passionately now, strained from both acts. He opened his eyes, and they soon brimmed with hot, salty tears. His chance had passed; he was coming off of his rush, and was painfully aware of the empty, computerized leaves above him.

“Take me away from this lie, Sebastian.” He whispered, his voice raw and sick, tears on his cheeks. “Take me far away.”