???: ...
Collar raised and head lowered, standing silently by the side door of the newsstand.
???: G'day, you got the latest Australian Nagger here?
Newsstand Owner: Nice choice. Everyone is talking about ... Hmm?
The strange customer snatches the paper from the newsstand owner and lapses into reading.
???: "A strange party held in the City Park last night …"
???: "... The witness claimed to see the burning kangaroos, mushroom-intoxicated rolling croc, and the teenage arsonist dancing together ... A secret event on the public lawn ... The revival of the Uluru Games …"
Fingers clutching at the newspaper tremble. The newspaper wrinkles, breaks ...
???: "It saddens us to admit that the recession and inflation have walloped some young adults ... They were ... crawling in the park at night …"
???: "Groaning and moaning like beasts, dragging themselves along, and losing consciousness …"
The voice, the figure, the temper, and the reaction all seem familiar.
Newsstand Owner: Wait, your voice ... Are you ...
Desert Flannel: Do you have to talk to me right now?
Behind the rustling newspaper is a familiar face with frowning eyebrows and bloodshot eyes.
Desert Flannel: I'm busy hating my life. I don't have time for your little chit-chat.
Newsstand Owner: No way, Desert Flannel. It's really you!
Newsstand Owner: Everybody is talking about you right now! And they can really imagine. Some say you're mad, some say you're the hero fighting against aliens ...
Newsstand Owner: Well, the most known story is "that event." Is it real that you're going to restart the Games?
Desert Flannel: I have nothing to do with it! It was all that junior's fault. I was just unlucky!
Fold, and open, and fold, and open.
Desert Flannel leafs through the newspaper, pacing back and forth like an animal trapped in the cage of the zoo.
Desert Flannel: It was pure bad luck that I ran into those weirdos, got taken to the hospital, and let Makower get what he wants.
Desert Flannel: I shouldn't have let him get away. If I see him again, I swear, I will pull out his tongue and tie it around his neck!
Desert Flannel: Look at this gibberish. He said we are the d**eheads who eat Bunyips from the sewage, a burning kangaroo, and I am a nutter because I can't find a way to afford rent!
Desert Flannel: This is great. I might as well be a kangaroo!
Newsstand Owner: At least it's true that you're banging your head against the wall for rent.
Desert Flannel: ...
Desert Flannel: Yeah, be mindful that you're talking to a nutter.
Glared at by those sharp eyes, the newsstand owner withdraws behind the counter and puts his hands on his knees like a good boy.
Desert Flannel: Ha, whatever. I will soon lose my part-time jobs and be kicked out of the house where my granny lived for decades.
The crumpled newspaper is thrown into the newsstand and Desert Flannel puts her hands back in her pockets.
Desert Flannel: I'm heading back. Let me know if you know any job vacancies. I can do a lot of things, as long as the money is good ... no, as long as I'm paid.
Newsstand Owner: Wait, Desert Flannel. Come and take a look at this.
A delicate wooden box is placed on the crumpled newspaper, with a lot of tickets inside.
Newsstand Owner: So many people came here this morning, asking about the Uluru Games. And one hour before, the Scissors Jerry brought me this.
Desert Flannel: This is ... a pre-sale ticket to the Uluru Games?
Newsstand Owner: I've sold over 50 tickets, at a unit price of ... this much.
Looking around to make sure that there is nobody nearby, the owner makes a gesture. Desert Flannel's jaw drops.
Desert Flannel: Huh?
She lowers her gaze to the newspaper. In a lively font, the headline reads: "Uluru Games."
Newsstand Owner: It has been suspended for too long, so long that everyone thinks society has forgotten it.
Newsstand Owner: But we remember—our ancestors told us about those amazing and funny sports, that big, wide, and fancy Stadium.
Desert Flannel: They all remember it, even looking forward to it, and even bid up for a fake ticket. Mate, did you get more of these from the other gangs?
Newsstand Owner: Two boxes left.
Holding the cigarette between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers, the owner squats down behind the counter.
His hands lift up, holding two even bigger and heavier boxes. His voice comes from below.
Newsstand Owner: These are from the Slicky and Eucalyptus Brotherhood.
Desert Flannel: Eucalyptus and what? Didn't catch that name. Oh, do you have the mints that I bought from you before? The least purchased ones. You always put them at the bottom of your box.
After the sounds of struggled searching, the owner at last pops his head back up, now covered with dust, and throws a faded iron box on the counter.
Newsstand Owner: Alright! Now, give my ticket back, and I'll put it away. I don't want any of the gangs to find out I'm dealing with the oth- ... Desert Flannel?
In front of him is an empty counter.
A coin purse has been placed on the abandoned newspaper, holding no coins but instead gray feathers.
Newsstand Owner: That's what I keep telling everyone.
Letting out a fatherly sigh, the newsstand owner lights up another cigarette.
Newsstand Owner: Muddying the water is what this bad girl does.
Makower: That's right. Desert Flannel has taken the fake tickets with her—the ones from Clippy, Slicky, and the Eucalyptus Brotherhood.
Makower: She's gone ... no, not to the black market.
Makower: ...
Makower: Sir, I heard that the Bunyips are getting restless again, is that true?
On the other end of the phone comes the noise of pinching a cigarette followed by laughter.
Hiding in the shadows in silence, the young girl darts past him.
Desert Flannel: Ha! I'm gonna make a fortune out of it!
Desert Flannel: I will be able to buy that house, get myself a new oven, some new clothes, and that giant wool nest for Plappy!
In a crash, some wet, black monsters flip over the well lid and crawl onto the road.
Desert Flannel: Urh, those Bunyips are out again. Haven't seen them out in the sun for a while now. I must hurry ...
Desert Flannel: Wait, are they coming my way?!
Makower: I've got my eyes on them. They are more interested in her than in me.
Desert Flannel: Well, this makes sense. Since the Uluru Games have made the biggest news of the week, the people are going on and on about it all day! And where else will the rumor-loving Bunyips go at this point?
Desert Flannel: Hah! The last time I saw something like this was when that scandal of Mr. Pompadour broke!
Makower: It will be a big story, almost as certainly as a cut will bleed.
Makower: I will pause my other projects and focus on this one.
Makower: This is very kind of you. I really appreciate it.
Desert Flannel: Nobody, nor any arcane creatures, can stop me from getting rich! Let alone that you haven't eaten enough rumors to grow into a three-floor high and multi-legged gigantic monster!
Desert Flannel: Bo-bo-bo-bo ... Plappy, give me a hand!
She swiftly takes a few steps back and presses the ON button on the digital pet device. A giant emu jumps out from the pixels, fluffing its feathers.
Plappy: Coo!!
Bunyip: Sss ... GARH!!
Desert Flannel: Ha! Like that "smell of rumors" from this ticket box? Come get it yourself!
COMBAT
Spathodea: Told you I'm super healthy! You should let me go now!
Ezra: But you need our care, Ms. Spathodea. It's also our responsibility to make sure that you're safe and stable.
Ezra: When arcanists were first introduced to their power, they would experience a 4-to-12-week adjustment period, during which they may suffer emotional breakdown, strong hallucinations, or frequent comas.
Spathodea: Hey, stop, stop it! I have something very important to do right now, I mean it!
Spathodea: I'm not gonna waste my time here! I'm fine! There will be no more confusion, mental breakdown, hallucination, or coma!
Vertin: Something very important? What is it?
The young girl stares at Ezra for a doubtful long time and finally talks.
Spathodea: My flame talked to me last night.
Flame: steady breath
The flame keeps hopping at a steady pace. Spathodea pets it like petting a curled kitty.
Spathodea: Now, it's asleep. I think it's exhausted after our rampage last night.
Vertin: Is the conversation about your changes?
Spathodea: Of course! The moment I touched it, it crawled along my arm to my mouth and went back to the stomach!
Spathodea: And-and all there's left in front of me was a black wall.
Vertin: Sorry, I'm not quite with you. Perhaps you could start from what happened then.
Spathodea: Sure! I don't remember it well, though.
Spathodea: They were blurry memories. Imagine you are looking at a plate of bacon and eggs through 30 layers of frosted glass. I had to get close to the glass to barely feel them.
Spathodea: I remembered you were there, and there was also a clear window.
Spathodea: I saw complete darkness in the window for most of the time, but there were pictures flashing by sometimes.
Ezra: I believe that's your memory as a "reincarnator"! Just like what's written in the books!
Spathodea: Hey! Let me finish!
Ezra: Ah, sorry. I was too excited because this is the first time I see a valid proof of "reincarnation." Please continue.
Spathodea: Ahem!
Spathodea: I think that's my memory, as a "reincarnator."
Spathodea: I saw my own body in that window, just like the one I'm looking at here.
Spathodea: I saw a lot of flames, wobbling lights, and people ...
The lively young girl takes a deep breath and presses her palm against her chest.
Spathodea: My heart has never beaten that fast, yet the fire in my body seemed completely natural, as if it was destined to burn inside me.
Spathodea: It whispered just one phrase to me, again and again.
Vertin: Like what you mentioned last night.
Spathodea: Yes, the Uluru Games. I must revive the Uluru Games.
Ezra: But, what are you going to do?
Ezra: Let's not get to the paper work of applications, security arrangement, and permission from the local government just yet.
Ezra: The location of entrance to the Uluru Games was never fixed. Only few arcanists could find it, and the Games are for arcanists only. There has never been a human athlete in there.
Ezra: And they have been canceled for all these years because they were completely lost in the war in 1942. Nobody has found them since.
Spathodea: But I can find it, because I have found my ancient self. I'm the only person in "this time" who has been to "that land" and my flame is my compass.
Spathodea throws back the covers and sits up on the bed.
Spathodea: Though I have not yet figured out why my memories are all about the conflicts with the flame, I felt so whole again when we burned together.
Spathodea: I'm sure it will help me and unite with me, because it trusts me so much that it traveled all the way here through the endless darkness and rainy seasons to come out of my mouth.
Spathodea: It's here for me, and now it's going to take me somewhere else.
Spathodea: I'll follow wherever it goes.
She seizes the cuff of the visitor, looking at her with her puppy dog eyes.
Spathodea: So, Vertin, you said you would take care of me. Would you come with me?
Spathodea: I need a Revival Squad and friends who understand and support each other, just the way the flame and I do! By then, you'll go to the Stadium too, and we'll run together!
Spathodea: I promise it will be a wonderful place where you'll never regret going. You will enjoy the Uluru Games!
Vertin: ...
Vertin: I have seen pictures of the Uluru Games in the school library collection a long time ago.
Vertin: I was not a fan of the routine physical fitness test at school, but I don't think any arcanist would say no to witnessing the revival of the once magnificent Games.
Spathodea: Oh, so?
Vertin: I'm more than willing to join you in bringing back the Games. It will be a wonderful new beginning.
A handshake is offered and accepted to symbolize their successful cooperation.
Spathodea: Wow! Yes! Thank you!
Ezra: I see. You're shouldering extremely important responsibility, Ms. Spathodea. I will apply for you to be discharged and explain all these to Judith!
Spathodea: Oh! And thank you Ezra! I won't forget your contribution to the revival of the Uluru Games!
Ezra: I'm deeply honored to have this chance to help.
Ezra: Then, I will get the paperwork done and go pack.
Spathodea: Hmm? What's that for?
Ezra: I need to prepare as many mushrooms as possible so that I can better assist you on the way.
Spathodea: You? On the way?
She points at herself and then at Ezra.
Spathodea: You're coming, too?
Ezra: Of course. We've been through so many things together. Am I not part of the team?
Spathodea: No, of course not! How can I take you in the Revival Squad?!
Spathodea: The Games is meant for arcanists. You've read the documents, right? Since the very beginning of history, humans have made countless attempts to find the entrance to the Stadium, yet none of them made it—it's just not for humans!
Spathodea: If you are a fan of sports, you can totally watch those held by humans! There will be a boxing event in Melbourne tomorrow, at the National Tennis Center at Flinders Park!
Ezra: No, no, Ms. Spathodea. I'm not interested in any games. The only reason why I'm coming along is because you haven't fully recovered and still need medical care.
Ezra: Besides, I hope to collect more information about "reincarnators" from you.
Ezra: I will not disturb your mission searching for the Stadium. Please, let me come with you. It's going to be good for both of us.
Spathodea: Collect information? You're monitoring me?
Spathodea: Sin-Since when did I grant you the permission to do that?! I never said yes!
Spathodea: I don't wanna be studied or published on newspaper, like the "reincarnator" you talked about!
Ezra: Our research does not need to be published on the newspaper. We can do it in a more subtle and secure manner.
Ezra: I will not design any tasks for you to perform, nor will I force you to take any potions. My job is to observe, record, and ensure your health and safety.
Ezra: Like what we do with the mushrooms.
Spathodea: But I'm a living arcanist, not a mushroom! I have had enough of everyone watching!
Looking up and down at Ezra, she hesitates and returns to her bed, wrapping herself up with the quilt like a burrito.
Spathodea: I don't wanna be the embellishment added to someone's academic achievement or a subject of the paper that will help you switch fields.
Ezra: Ah, I didn't explain it right.
Ezra: Ms. Spathodea, please listen to me. I have never changed my heart as a researcher, and I care about arcanists as much as I care about mushrooms. It was never my intention to use you as a career boost.
Ezra: You are such a rare opportunity to us, because none of us know when and where the next "reincarnator" will be found. If we miss this opportunity, the academic circle may have to wait for another decade to further their research.
Ezra: The discovery you and I made may shock many, our names might go down in history, but most importantly, it's going to help a lot of people!
Ezra: Have you heard of Tchangues invented by Dame Perotti? It was inspired by a long-legged shepherd in France, and it has helped many athletes with disabilities to walk and run again!
What a nice shot.
Spathodea: Ughhhh.
A long, painful moan escapes the little boxer's mouth.
Ezra: Ms. Spathodea? You look miserable in the blanket.
Vertin: Keep going, Ezra. You're very close …
Ezra: Me? Close to what? I don't follow.
Desert Flannel: Close ... Well, speaking of close, guess who is close to becoming the most successful business person here?
Vertin: Desert Flannel? Where have you been?
Desert Flannel: Hi! What're the wide eyes for? I'm not some monster crawling out of the sewage.
She scrapes the mud from under her shoes and trots into the room, carrying three wooden boxes.
Spathodea: You look a mess. What happened?
Desert Flannel: Err, I didn't ask you why you are crouching in bed like an ostrich, did I? So maybe you can return the favor and keep your nose out of my business, yes?
Desert Flannel: And what really matters is the good stuff here!
Desert Flannel knocks on the cover of a box and is satisfied with the crisp sound.
Desert Flannel: You wouldn't know how unbelievably lucky we are, my dear business part- ... errr, friends.
Spathodea: Yeah, no. I don't.
Spathodea: sighs Ezra alone is already too much information for my brain.
Desert Flannel: Fine, you restless and humorless people.
Now hold tight and get ready. The rubber band is being stretched further and further above the box.
Desert Flannel: We will bring back the Uluru Games!
Spathodea: Hmph.
Ezra: Emm.
Vertin: ...
Desert Flannel: Hey! What kind of reaction is this? Why are you quiet as stones?
Desert Flannel: This is a great idea, and you're giving me this?!
In the room brimmed with wordless doubt and silence, a hand reaches up from beneath the quilt.
Spathodea: Alright, join my Revival Squad. Handshake? Handshake.
Ezra: Then I ...
Spathodea: No, not you!
Spathodea retracts her hand away from the burrito, in a movement so fast it blurs.
On the choppy water, several buoy balls are connected together. They are floating towards the depths of the pool hand in hand.