The Essence of Simties

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On our second evening at the Air Complex, after a day spent decorating our respective bedrooms, we have to decide what to eat. Ramen noodles and pizza to order sound boring. We had that the day before, when we collapsed on the couch at 10PM, burdened by the exhaustion of a thousand boxes carried from car to Complex. Or, more accurately, two boxes each.

What does not sound boring, on the other hand, is the Essence of Simties Bowling Alley.

So we all agree; and just like that, without the need of a group chat, a complex gymnastic in organization, or the smallest hint of parental authorization, off we are.

The Essence of Simties stands out in its neighborhoods. In that part of Willow Creek, there is a quaint wedding venue; a diner that pretty much looks like a giant strawberry sundae, and a lone, long-deserted suburban house. And then there is this big black box with flashing neon signs. It towers over the whole neighborhood. In fact, it is the tallest building for miles around, and it is so very… black.

And it’s the perfect teen hangout.

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Independance

Ah, being independent. Adults like to make you believe that independence means the beginning of responsibilities, and, as if it were a direct consequence, the end of all things fun.

Adults are right about many things, but let me tell you, we’ll make it a point to prove them wrong about this.

When we settle into the life at the Air Complex, sure enough, our lives change. We have to cook our own meals now. No one will barge into our room  at quarter to eight and shake us awake so that we don’t miss first period. No one is going to answer any question you might have about how the hell to adult — and you dare not ask via phone call: you did send the message that you wanted out of the actual adults’ influence, after all.

We enjoy that time together, as a family that we chose. At least at the beginning, we enjoy doing everything together. We have big projects. We have an organization put into place. We find something to laugh about even in the most boring of chores, the most trying of late-night essays.

But in our case, what the freedom means, above all else, is that the world is ours. And so are the nightclubs.

And Plumbob knows we are going to enjoy the nightclubs.

Seasoning a single slice of bread is important.

Cooking more than one meal at once. I’m sure we’ll stay that motivated throughout our stay at the Air Complex. Right?

Romain, thrilled that it’s his turn to wash the dishes.

He got over it.

Cooking together!

… Well almost. As usual, Shanna’s doing her own thing, outside on the terrace.

The Music Rooms

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The complex was engineered with what they called two “ballrooms”. Really, it was two cupboards with wooden floors. In one of them, half the space was taken up by a DJ deck. Moving in, we had no idea what to do with it. We figured, we could have a party there. A very small party. A party of maybe ten people. A very private party.

A few weeks later, it turned out the existence of these rooms was a godsend.

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Azalea’s Bedroom

And finally, mine. I played with the blue and the purples to get a soothing atmosphere. I set up a reading nook by the window, at the perfect place; the place that the sunlight bathes when the sun sets. And of course, I stuck artwork on my walls. An autographed poster of one of my favorite video games; some San Myshuno posters that Miranda sent me, and a few paintings Mom, Mam and Grandma made for me.

In my humble and very unbiased opinion, my room is the best room of all.

Romain’s Bedroom

Romain’s room is impossibly stylish as well. That, and in a way, very quirky. The penguin TV near his bed, the bright green computer, the posters everywhere and the big graffiti on the wall. Somehow, it manages to seem almost monochromatic in spite of all the clutter and diversity.

It’s a really nice room to look at. But for some reason, I can never stay in it for very long: it suffocates me. All that bleak, cold darkness and shades of grey. So I simply never lingered.

Hugo’s Bedroom

Hugo’s bedroom is pretty much what you would expect in a way: it’s a mess. Clothes, everywhere. Piles of nature magazines. Products, and books, lining every corner.

But it also shows another side of him. It shows the artsy, free-spirited young man. Two of his walls are lined with artwork, beautiful, modern artwork that he took great care in placing and maintaining — unlike basically everything else. He also chose his chandeliers accordingly. Lean and modern and stylistic.

And finally, he has two computers. And as I would learn later, he knew how to use them. He really did.