#oneaday Day 682: Wasteland Diaries, Final Part

[Read from the start. If, you know, you want to. Excuse any typos or errors along the way — this was written along the lines of NaNoWriMo: get it done, (maybe) fix it later. It was also mostly written at ungodly hours in the middle of the night. AND NOW THE CONCLUSION.]

I have come to a decision, and I'm ready to stick to it and live with the consequences, whatever they might be. It's a scary moment, but also a liberating one. By freeing myself from uncertainty and committing to a course of action, I feel that I can positively move forward and take on the future head-on.

Earlier in the morning, Clarkson had called me and said that Adam wanted to see me. I'd had an instinctive feeling when I woke up that today would be an important day, and that feeling's only been growing ever since then.

I've made an effort. I've done my hair, put on a little makeup for the first time in I can't remember how long, and I've found something nice to wear rather than PJs or a horrible, faded old T-shirt. If it's a big day, I should look the part, and to do so I've found a dress I always liked. I've lost a bit of weight ever since all this started, so it hangs a little loosely in some parts, but it stays up, at least, and is probably the most respectable thing I own.

I set off down the street in the direction of the hospital, wondering how the day will unfold. While I've committed to my own course of action, I'm well aware I'm only one of two people in this scenario, and it's entirely possible that things might not go the way I expect. In the end, nothing is certain.

I stop proceeding down that chain of thought because it leads to hesitation, uncertainty and nervousness, none of which I can afford right now. This chapter of my life ends today, and I'm not going to let self-doubt stand in the way of all that. I will do my part to strive towards the future I want, and then I'll just have to see what happens.

It starts drizzling with rain as I walk down the street and, inevitably, I've forgotten an umbrella. Fortunately, the rain doesn't built to the levels it has in the past few days, but it still soaks my hair, putting it at severe risk of doing that fuzzy thing it always does in damp conditions. I may as well have not bothered sorting it out.

I quicken my pace and before long have arrived at the hospital. I follow the familiar path up to Adam's room, and find Clarkson waiting outside for me.

"Hello, Evie," he says, a serious expression on his face. "Go on in, he's awake."

I push open the door and walk into the dimly-lit room. Adam is lying in the bed, propped up into an almost-natural sitting position. He looks tired, still.

"Hi," he says, his voice cracked and weak. "Glad you're here."

"Me too," I say, sitting down in the chair next to him and taking his hand. "I–"

"Wait," he croaks, interrupting me. "Please, let me talk first."

"Okay," I say.

"Evie," he says. "I've come to a realisation after the very strange experiences I've had."

He pauses, swallows and licks his lips before continuing.

"After you… told me you weren't ready to be a mother, I jumped to a conclusion," he says. "I jumped to the conclusion that it was all about me. That you didn't want me, that you didn't see a future with us both in it."

"That's not what I thought at all," I say quietly. "But I understand why you thought that, and why you did what you did. I'm sorry I did what I did in the way I did. I'm sorry — I'm sorry I killed our baby."

He smiles and shakes his head.

"When I ran from you, I felt like the world had been destroyed," he says. "I felt like you were the one who had destroyed it. Everything ceased to have meaning, and I felt that there was no place for me in a world like that. Everything, everyone was dead to me."

He pauses and coughs a little. I move to help him, but he just shakes his head, dismissing me. I sit back down again.

"I know now that I was wrong," he growls, his voice weakening. "I know now that it wasn't you who was being selfish, it was me."

There's a silence for a moment. I can't deny it, even with the guilt I feel over causing all this.

"It wasn't your fault," he says, as if reading my thoughts. "You didn't cause this. I did. My own stubbornness, my own stupidity."

I see his eyes filling with tears. I let him speak.

"You weren't the one who ended my world," he says, "I was the one who ended yours. I've put you through all this. I've made you suffer. And for what? It's not fair. I can't keep doing that to you. I can't ruin your life any more. I can't hold you down. I can't keep you back. You're not my property. You're not mine to command."

He changed. He's like a different person. No — he's like the person I first fell in love with, not the hollow wreck of a man who'd been plummeting towards rock bottom even before all this happened. It's good to see him back again. And a feeling of relief sweeps through my mind.

"No," I say, smiling. "I'm not. But I've learned something, too. What we are is a team. We work together. We decide things together. Neither of us has to be alone. Neither of us has to make the difficult decisions by ourselves. What's done is done, and I hope you can forgive me, but I can assure you it will never happen again."

"I know," he says, quietly. "You were the one who led me back to reality, Evie. By following you, that's why I'm here. You were the whole reason for my journey. You saved me, whether or not you intended to."

"What journey?" I say. "What do you mean?"

He smiles and closes his eyes. I feel his fingers wrap around mine.

"This is the end," he says. "And the beginning, all at once."

#oneaday Day 681.5: RIP GamePro

[Apologies for the interruption to the ongoing story — it will end tomorrow. This needed to be said today, though.]

Today, an era came to an end, as the announcement came that GamePro in its current form would be no more as of December 5, 2011. Both the website and the new quarterly magazine have been shuttered, and all of us on staff suddenly find ourselves without a job. The GamePro brand itself will be folded into PC World, where it will most likely die a quiet death, unnoticed.

This is, of course, suckitude of the highest magnitude, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. It is tough times in the super-competitive publishing industry, particularly in the overcrowded video games market. I shan't pretend to understand the business reasons behind the closure of GamePro when we were enjoying viewing figures the likes of which the site had never seen — but it seems to be something of a sad truth in today's games journalism industry that nothing lasts forever. If you want job security, it ain't the sector you should get yourself into.

What has been touching is the amount of support people have shown for GamePro on Twitter and various other social networks today. The magazine and site was a lot more widely-known than I thought — at times I'd wondered if UK journos and industry types were even aware of it — and everyone, it seems, was sorry to see the back of what had, after all, been a fixture in gamer culture for many, many years, particularly in the U.S.

GamePro, of course, has personal meaning to me, too. My brother spent ten months giving both the magazine and its web presence a much-needed shakeup (see his blog post today for more) and made it something that was interesting and relevant to the modern gamer. And once he left and I had the opportunity to jump in on news reporting duties, I know my contributions played a part in the site's growing success — growth that has been sadly cut short by today's news.

While I'd never met many of the GamePro team face to face, it was a close-knit bunch of people who got on well together, from what I could make out, anyway! I felt like a valuable member of the team despite being halfway across the world, and I always felt like my hard work was appreciated — which is why I continued to work so hard and contribute as much quality content as I could to the site. I made a distinct effort to not cover the same stories that all the big news blogs did — that's counter-productive. Rather, I took inspiration from sources such as GameSetWatch (which, coincidentally, also died today), Kill/Screen and numerous others to dig up interesting nuggets of information on fascinating indie titles, peculiar happenings in gamer culture and opportunities for discussion and debate. I was happy with the approach; I feel it gave GamePro a unique take on the news which wasn't just a case of rewriting press releases and rewording stories from other sites. And on the occasions where I did write stories based on press releases, I made a conscious effort to actually write a story rather than just reword the press release. I'd read up on the background of the companies involved, find out precedents for interesting events and throw in some interesting trivia if I had some to hand.

And now it's all over. I'm sorry to see GamePro go, but I'm hopeful that the staff will be able to find themselves suitably awesome positions to move on to. As for me? I couldn't say. Working for an American site has been a great deal of fun but it's had the side-effect that I'm known more in the States than I am in my own country. While I'd hope my experience and output would speak for itself regardless of the geographical location of the site on which it was published, I do wonder which side of the pond any future writing gigs might come from.

With that, then, ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses and toast the late GamePro. You'll be missed.

#oneaday Day 681: Wasteland Diaries, Part 29

She was there, and talking, and I heard her, and then she was gone and I felt sleepy. I drifted off into slumber, but this wasn't like it had been before. This was restful and relaxing. When I woke up, I felt invigorated, though my body still felt stiff, and unable to move, and I was still strapped to an array of beeping, whirring machines.

An older guy with a kindly face came in to see me. I recognised his voice, though I wasn't sure from where. He did some tests. I felt him fumbling around on my body, but it didn't hurt. I wasn't sure exactly what he was doing as I couldn't lift my head up to see.

"Don't worry," he said to me. "You're probably feeling a little disorientated right now. And that's perfectly normal. So is that feeling of numbness and stiffness in all your limbs. You haven't moved for a good long time."

I tried to reply, but no sound came out.

"You keep resting," he said. "You'll be fine from here."

I wanted to believe him. This room that I was in was claustrophobic, and being stuck on my back wired up to gadgets and gizmos wasn't helping me. I felt anxious, and suddenly keen to be outside.

I wasn't even sure where "here" was. The memories of my desperate flight up the stairs away from the beast were still with me, though details were fading. Had that really happened?

I frowned. Feeling in my face was starting to come back, so I wiggled my eyebrows comically as I pondered the meaning of what had transpired. I must have looked ridiculous, but fortunately the man had left by this point.

I was confused. What was real, and what was fake? She had been a prominent part of what I'd just been through, but then she was there when I woke up too, and it didn't seem to add up.

I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind. I felt as if parts of my body were slowly coming back to life. The sensation was distracting enough to divert my thoughts away from the confusion of my situation. I twitched my toes and my fingertips, though moving whole limbs still felt like an impossible task. I moved my nose in a sneer, and back down again, and wiggled my eyebrows again for good measure. I opened my mouth and tried to make a sound, but my throat was so dry it simply came out as a zombie-like gargling. I wanted to laugh at how absurd I must look right now, but it too much effort.

I heard the door go again and opened my eyes. I tried to move my neck, but it didn't go anywhere. Before long, the older guy's face was before me again. I think he was sitting or kneeling next to the bed on which I lay.

"Adam," he said. "Welcome back. I'm sure you're very confused, and you have many questions, and equally are finding it very difficult to answer them right now. So let me try and explain what has been happening to you.

"You have been in a coma for some time now. You took one hell of an overdose, but fortunately your ladyfriend was able to call for an ambulance and get you here in time to save you. She wasn't with you when it happened, as you'd had a falling-out, but you'd sent her a text message — a technological suicide note, as it were. She did the right thing and saved your life by calling us straight away.

"Since that time, you've been unconscious. We've been monitoring you closely, and it's clear that your brain was very active during that time — dreaming, in a sense. Not all coma patients dream — it depends on how much damage the brain has suffered, if any. But we could tell that your brain was still alive and well, if not what was going on."

A dream? That would explain the vagueness of the memories I have of what I've been through, and why they're fading so quickly.

"Evie came to see you almost every day," he continued. "She never gave up on you. She'd spend time with you, talk to you, read to you. She gave up her life for you. It's not often you see that amount of commitment to another person."

"Guilty," I eventually managed to murmur in a choked voice. "But… My fault."

"No-one's to blame," he replied. "Or if either of you are, there's no sense in assigning blame at this point. You've reached the end of one thing and the beginning of another. This is a turning point. Whatever happened before doesn't have to matter now. You can start afresh — if you want to, of course."

Although details of my long journey were slowly disappearing into the darkest recesses of my memory as we spoke, I still recalled the conversation I'd had with Evie over that table, and how I'd responded to her admission.

"ALPHA AND OMEGA WILL UNITE," that strange text message had said. It had stuck in my mind because of how unusual and out of place it was, but now I understood.

The beginning and end will unite. It meant so many things. What I had thought would be the beginning of a new life with Evie and the baby turned out to be the end of everything. The end of the world was the beginning of my journey. The end of my journey was made up of the events which had caused it to begin in the first place. And now that chapter of my life was ending, causing a new one to begin.

I was ready to face that future. But was Evie?

As I felt my strength returning and my body awakening after its long slumber, I knew that the next day would be the true day of reckoning.