Ramps and Routine

The sound of wheels grinding against concrete filled the quiet night of an empty outdoor skatepark. A full moon lit the sweat that dripped down the forehead of a young skater, his eyes locked onto the figure of his father, who was soaring through the air with effortless grace.

"You're falling behind again!" his father yelled, landing back on the ground at the bottom of a staircase with a thud. The young, aspiring pro skater, Vin, groaned but knew better than to argue. He had been training with his dad since childhood and knew the man was tough but fair.

He rolled up to the edge of the same stairs, squinted at his objective, visualized what he'd do, and launched himself into the air. While above the Earth, he used his foot to propel the board horizontally, making it barrel roll several times. He came down upright, but when he landed, his foot slipped, and he tumbled.

"How many times have you fallen now!?" his father yelled, skating over to him.

Vin tried to hurry to his feet but winced as he felt a sharp clash of needles in his ankle and fell to his knees. He fought the pain of a minor sprain, gripping the afflicted joint and muttering, "I'll do better..."

The man arrived at his son and knelt before yanking Vin's hand away from his injury to examine it himself. He took the boy's foot into his heavy hand and maneuvered it in several directions to ensure it wasn't fractured. "It's not broken. Keep going."

Vin resisted the urge to grunt in pain and tried to ignore his sprain while climbing up the stairs to jump again.

They'd practiced like this every night. It was the only time his father could push him to such an extent without upsetting his mother.

Sometimes, the man could be slightly abusive, yelling and pushing his son to his limits. But there was no denying that it was out of love and wanting to see Vin succeed in the sport that had given his father so much joy.

Since it was the start of a weekend, they kept at it for longer until Vin became too exhausted to continue, his body aching from the intense training.

At the end of every session, his father rubbed his head and praised him. Even though Vin knew it was his dad's attempt to show any hint of kindness after being a tyrant, Vin was proud to receive praise from his father.

That night, Vin peeked at the starry sky before sneaking back into their home. He breathed in and smiled,' Another night.'

He always slept well after a successful day. When nothing terrible happened or deserved him going too far out of his comfort zone.

That was his life, and he went to bed that night with a clear conscience.

<>

Life was welcomingly bland.

One's younger years were supposed to be spirited, everchanging, and memorable. Each day, something new and brilliant!

So some said.

The following day, Vin awoke fully melted into his large, exceptionally cushioned bed. He was slightly sore but forced his hands to grab his phone from beneath his pillow.

He made several taps, which started up the loudspeakers on the walls of his spacious bedroom.

He yawned, then pulled his bedsheets over his short black hair, murmuring, "I wanna keep my eyes closed today, too."

This was an expression he used often. It plainly meant he prayed for an unstimulating day that wouldn't scare his eyes wide open. It wasn't a crisis many 14-year-olds had; he felt just flat. As muted as the gray walls of his punk room. He loved how every day was predictable, nearly routine.

There was, however, one thing that pushed him.

Vin, sporting an incurable scowl, also known as a resting-bitch-face, wrestled the comfy bed to sit upright. Then, he looked at a small collection of skateboards on his wall. The tall, narrow windows of the room flanked the bed he'd sat on, inviting in the sun's golden rays, which lit his dark, sharp eyes and brightened his skin to a pleasing light brown.

Tilting his head, Vin growled at the warm, innocent light. It was bright, but the weather that Saturday morning was nicely ordinary. He moved to release himself from daylight's amicable grasp, then strolled to the wall of skateboards, the music still raging, nearly shaking the room's walls. Punk rock to start off a perfectly mundane day.

"Volume up," he commanded, controlling the AI assistant on the music device to further disturb those inside his household. Vin's head bobbed back and forth, adapting to the song's clamorous but regular tempo. Meanwhile, he nonchalantly raised his hand to the first skateboard that spoke to him.

"This'll work," he muttered, grabbing onto a fully translucent board made of high-impact acrylic resembling glass. It was a fun design but far more slippery than traditional wooden skateboards. The wheels were still solid like conventional skateboards; he just took the extra risk of falling because the board summed up how he'd enjoyed life. It was transparent. It was obvious.

His recent moods meant that particular deck had received much attention lately, so he wanted to give it a loose inspection before going out.

His desk sat in the corner of the room; it half functioned as a workshop, a space for him to store tools for his wheeled instruments.

After a single step toward the neat oak desk, there was a loud bang on his door, followed by his father's boisterous voice. "Breakfast in Ten!" the man announced.

Vin maintained his course toward his workstation, calmly acknowledging the report. Not a sound from his lips made it to his father's ears; he just continued. Two years ago, the man's strong voice had rattled his composure and left him wide-eyed. Now, it was just more noise.

Once Vin opened the top drawer of his desk, an assortment of tools stood out. He judged a simple service would suffice and grabbed a T-shape tool that doubled as a socket wrench and screwdriver. At the bottom of every board are two metal plates called trucks, followed by a hanger and two axles holding the wheels.

It took him less than a minute to tighten both trucks, and then he pocketed the T-shaped tool out of habit. He caught himself doing so, thinking, 'I doubt I'll need to fasten the bolts again. Still.'

Holding onto the board, Vin closed the curtain to his room, turned off the music, and then steered for the door. The hall he entered had a woman's touch. It had well-lit pearl-white walls, modest paintings, and flora that docked on wooden shelves.

He took a flight of stairs down from his chamber in their two-story home. Once he landed on the base floor, he wasn't surprised that all the drapes were pulled, letting natural light command the living room. Despite their wealth, his parents did well to save power where possible.

The dominant aroma of freshly brewed coffee and cooked bacon sheathed every other dish that had been prepared.

He caught a glimpse of his mother's back across that illuminated space as she crossed from the living room to the dining area. Before he followed her, he turned himself to something strange that he'd heard on TV.

'Astronomers believe they've sighted a new planet in the solar system?'

Even if it were true, it wouldn't affect his personal life, but it'd definitely be something. This news of nonsense reminded Vin of something else absurd, and he retrieved his smartphone from a pocket and navigated to social media. In previous days he'd observed many posts of 'fake' pictures of holes in the sky. They all referenced some silly conspiracy theory that Humans were living in a simulation. One that had started to 'glitch,' apparently.

As of late, he'd started observing pictures of tears closer to the ground. There was even a convincing article about a rift that opened in an active freeway and swallowed two cars. That was about when he thought the trend was going too far.

The original blogger later added a video of their local authorities blocking off the road and placing a metal container over the apparent rip in reality. Vin believed it was likely just a sinkhole that formed and sunk two vehicles.

It was undoubtedly bogus…

'Whatever.'

Vin followed his mother, Hellen, into the kitchen, revealing himself with a slight smile to her and his father, who'd been preparing the table for breakfast.

"Morning, champ!" his father nearly shouted, setting down glass plates. The man paused his assignment, then roamed over to Vin and placed his rough hand on his head.

"Ready for your big race today?" The man asked with a grin that would only accept one answer.

Vin and his father looked a lot alike, side by side. It made sense, considering he was named after him: Gavin Dance Jr.

His father, who went by Gavin, loomed over him. He was stocky, rocked a buzz cut, and wore an exceptionally tight athletic shirt and short shorts. He had moods like Vin, sometimes cheerful and other times serious.

"Another trophy for the collection," Vin effortlessly replied, assured he'd win the upcoming competition. A great answer. Gavin wrapped his wide arms around his son, lifted him off the ground, and squeezed him so tight you'd think juice would seep from his body.

On a different tempo from the boys, his mother, Hellen, swung around the table, kissed them both on the forehead, and then jokingly stated, "You'll be competing on an empty stomach if you don't help out."

Her long, dark silk hair and flowery patterned dress swished as she returned to the living room, adding to her declaration, "And Vin, keep the music down in the morning, or I'll have Dad carry your speakers out."

His mother always had a way of threatening him in a sociable yet somehow menacing manner. Still, she was a blessing to him. He couldn't recall how many times she'd patched him up after a fall, always encouraging him to be safe instead of trying to force him to quit.

After her sound threat to take his speakers, he smiled her away, then responded, "Sure, I'll try."

Next, he glanced up at his father, grinned, and smugly pointed to the unset dining table while saying, "Get to it, or you'll be in trouble."

Gavin gave Vin a way-too-rough-to-be-friendly shove that nearly took him off his feet, then chortled, "Don't think you get to just stand there either. Go give Macy a hand in the kitchen."

With a chuckle, Vin walked into the open kitchen north of the dining room, separated by a white archway. It was spacious, with white marble floors and black granite countertops, and equipped with the latest cooking innovations. It was every housewife's dream setup.

Macy, Vin's younger sister by two years, was pulling condiments and drinks from the fridge when Vin entered and announced he'd been sentenced to serve as a kitchen aid. Without much instruction, he implemented himself into her task, grabbing a pitcher of cold water and another with lemonade.

His assistance was met with a pouty, "Back off, I got it."

Macy had the same resting scowl that'd made making new friends difficult. Even more, while he'd taken early lessons in skateboarding, she'd studied Karate making her someone he wanted to avoid pissing off.

Still, orders were orders, and he had to help somehow. Vin continued to try to transport the drinks, but the sleeve of his black hoodie was met with a solid grip. He knew that was her "courtesy tap." If he continued, she'd likely strike him, AND considering he had a race soon, he didn't want to develop a limp like the last time she kicked him in the knee. BUT maybe that'd actually make the competition difficult….

'No, best not challenge it.'

Vin decided to back off, taking shelter near the fridge. At least if his mother came in, he could pretend to help.

After some hasty steps here and there, Macy had moved everything she needed to the dining room alone. The rest of the family met up after her completion, and together, they enjoyed breakfast.

Vin always knew which dish Macy was most involved in because she'd stare at him anxiously as soon as his utensil hovered over it. She didn't have the same sentiment when anyone else tried her dishes. For some reason, the girl just really cared about his opinion. Macy was a tough cookie, but at times, she really was just his little sister.

After catching her usual glances, Vin stabbed a bacon wrap with a fork, then downed it in one bite before groaning in delectability. Her face lit up in content, but she soon hid it on her plate, pretending to concentrate on eating.

Vin peeked at his mother, who'd long since caught on to Macy's gestures, and then back at his sister before he smiled and continued to eat. Most of the conversation was steered toward Vin's competition and how Gavin Sr would be competing a few hours later on a grander stage. It was nothing new. Like every other day, things would go as intended.

After wrapping up, the family left on foot. Their home was situated on the edge of a bustling city. Like the Dance's, there were many wealthy families in that area. Many liked the opportunity that a large, bustling city offered but preferred to live on the border in a house rather than inside an apartment building or tower.

Vin liked their location; each house was a decent space apart and tended trees and fields of grass added to the appealing scene. The musk from the city wasn't terrible either. Most of all, he loved that the skate parks in that area weren't cluttered with amateurs falling down in their attempt to learn a new trick. No, it was primarily children whose parents kept them off the ramps.

Clear ramps, clear mind. He and his father could hone their techniques without worrying about a human speed bump dropping in their path.

Another benefit of that location was that it wasn't far from the city—it was close to a 20-minute walk. Not to mention, seeing the progressive transition from a rural area to an entire metropolis was quite interesting.

<>

Vin attended school in the city, so just the day before, he'd traveled down the same sidewalk of that route. So, that Saturday morning, he wondered-

'Why is there a crowd blocking the sidewalk?'

Just at the edge of the first large building was an audience of nearly fifty people. They stood within two extremes of business attire, or casual, just woke-up garments.

A robust but panicked voice slashed through the full array of the city's loud ambiance. Vin searched for the source and spotted a man standing atop an expensive, low-suspension, red sports car.

It clearly didn't belong to the speaker… He was—in a word, misplaced. Tall but very scrawny, his limbs looked like they could reach down to his spectators and lift them up like infants. The man had a ghastly complexion, which didn't mesh well with his beaten, heavy, black trench coat. His most distinctive feature... The pointed tin foil hat on his long, unruly brown hair.

"The aliens are coming!" The stranger shouted, throwing his arms toward the sky.

A real piece of work. Vin wondered why dozens of people bothered to gather around such a run-of-the-mil crazy person.

"I spoke with them myself! They've accepted me as Earth's leader!"

The man wore an intense expression while pointing to various people in the audience and hollering violently. "Every single one of you will be saved! I give you my word!"

"The aliens WILL take Earth, but I have negotiated a new land for us to live on their planet!"

Vin adhered to the odd individual while making his way past the crowd. He'd hoped for a dull, uneventful day, but lucky for Vin, there was a madman convinced he'd encountered aliens. What a show!

He still had a competition to win, so he didn't slow down much to admire the unfiltered lunatic. However, the objective wasn't mutually agreed upon.

That crazy found its way to Vin.

Atop the sports car, the man spotted Vin and his family passing by.

"Hey, you! Boy!"

Gavin's large hand pressed against his son's back, and then Vin heard his father advise him to ignore the madman. He tried, but soon, there was a metal clunk when the maniac jumped from the car and hastily charged toward them with wild, flailing arms.

Within half a minute, the man pushed through his observers and reached Vin. Gavin stood wide, brandishing his proud muscles and forming a wall before him.

Despite Vin's father's raw might, the madman's dash clashed with Gavin and inched him back. Somehow, that giant man was being moved by a toothpick. It was indeed an astonishing sight. Who knew the power of crazy could combat years of training.

Eventually, however, Gavin gained solid ground and repelled the stranger. Seeing an apparent lack of progress, the man in the ragged coat shifted from a frontal assault to shamelessly heaving his body onto the dirty ground and crawling underneath Gavin's wide footing.

With his long neck sticking from underneath Vin's father's crotch, the man shouted with a face full of sweat, "You there!"

At that distance, Vin observed more than a manic man. There were tinges of anxiousness and desperation on that stranger's face. And what could be identified as hope? While he didn't respond to the man, he didn't completely ignore him as told.

"That thing in your hands!" The stranger added.

Vin nonchalantly glanced at the skateboard he carried on his left shoulder, then returned a steady stare at the man. "You mean my skateboard?"

As Vin answered, his mother's arm wrapped around his chest and pulled him several steps away from the person crawling on the ground. "Sweetie, don't talk to him."

Gavin turned around and wrangled the stranger with an arm lock, trying to drag him from his family. Still, the man squirmed and locked his manic eyes onto Vin.

"Yes!" He shouted with a more significant pinch of hope.

"Yes! A skateboard!"

"Boy! Do you think aliens could ride a skateboard!?"

Vin planned to cut off their interaction when his mother got involved. However, all the grief he'd gone through to become a good skateboarder gave him a burning pride for the sport. One that forced a reaction before he could think.

Tilting his head upward to look down on the man, Vin rotated the board so that the base of the deck and wheels faced them in full.

In a level, condescending tone, he responded to the man with another question, "Can you?"

With that, the man's expression lit up. A disturbed smile detonated across his face as he quietly and sedately replied, "No."

If he, a fellow human, could not ride a skateboard, then what hopes would an alien with no concept of human sports have? It was a silly question. Nevertheless, Vin's gaze lingered on the peculiar man for a moment longer before his father extricated him from the situation. 

The Dance family made it out of that encounter with only a few squirts of hand sanitizer. While continuing their walk, Vin couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something more to the stranger's words, something beyond mere delusion. His mind wandered back to the news of the supposed new planet in the solar system and the bizarre conspiracy theories circulating online. What if there was some truth hidden amidst the madness?

Vin continued to the skateboarding competition, ignorant of the trials awaiting him. He was painfully unaware that the great assimilation of Earth was fated to come, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.