“Can I help you?” came a small, snooty voice. Simon looked back towards the sign-in table and saw a short man in a very convincing dwarf costume. He was staring up at Simon with judging eyes and a stern, confused expression of distaste.
“I’m here for the, well, I uh, I’m not sure if…”
“Spit it out!” the dwarf-man snapped.
“I got this invitation,” Simon handed him the card he received in the mail, the day before. It was an odd card that had no return address, no stamp, and it only had his name written on the front with a phrase underneath that read, ‘If the addressee is currently hidden and unlikely to be found before the morrow, please burn this card, post haste!’ Inside the card read: “Good on you, master of the unseen! You have shown your worthiness of the triennial Hide N Seek Championship of Champions! Bring this card to the arena on 5th and Harding, tomorrow, the 21st of September. Good luck, Simon Handford!”
The dwarf looked back up at Simon, his face even more contorted from confusion, than before. “Simon Handford?! I’ve never heard of a Simon Handford! Where are you from? London? Oz? Narnia?!”
“Narnia?! What’re you talking abou..” Before he could finish, a man with a refined appearance came over to the table.
“Ah, Mr. Handford! I’m so pleased you received my invitation!” HIs voice was smooth, articulate and british. He looked like a butler directly out of a movie. He was well groomed with glasses, a tailored suit with coattails, a perfect bow tie such expertly polished shoes, that Simon could see his reflection in them. “The name’s Alfred Penniworth, Mr. Handford. Welcome to the Hide N Seek Championship. The ultimate game of cat and mouse, the world has ever seen, or er, not seen, is more fitting! I will take it from here, Master Grumpy!”
Simon looked back at the small man behind the table, expecting him to throw a fit at the insult, but instead, he responded with a bow and a, “thank you, Alfred! He was getting on my nerves, anyway!” and with one last glare in SImon’s direction, he disappeared into a crowd of people dressed like Storm Troopers.
“Don’t mind good old Mr. Grumpy,” said Alfred, “he’s just not used to having people like you, here.”
“What do you mean people like me? Where am I? Who are you and why didn’t that guy yell at you for calling him grumpy?!”
Alfred looked at Simon intently as if trying to sum him up. He had very kind eyes and though he was quite thin and dressed as a butler, for some reason, Simon felt certain that he could easily handle himself in a quarrel. “You really have no idea, do you?” and without waiting for a reply, Alfred took Simon by the arm and led him through the crowd. “You live in a world full of stories about fairy tales and parables, heroes and villains, action and adventure, and you’re quite content in existing in the notion that these things are all products of fiction and fantasy. Well, Mr. Handford, I’m here to tell you, fiction is a matter of perspective.” The two continued through the center of the great hall, passing booth after booth of characters Simon recognized from various realms of entertainment. Superheroes, Grimm’s fairy tales, Middle Earth, hundreds of cosplayers in ridiculously accurate costumes, all talking in accents to match their character’s personas.
Alfred guided Simon away from the main hall and led him into an elevator that was already open as if it were waiting for them to enter. As soon as they were in, the doors shut and the elevator rose without any buttons being pressed.
“What if I told you that you already know me, not from a prior encounter, in person, but from books, television and movies?” Alfred looked at Simon with wide eyes and a small smirk, trying to mentally force the answer into his brain.
“You mean to tell me, you’re THAT Alfred? The infamous butler and guardian to Bruce Wayne? The B-…” Alfred put his hand up to stop Simon.
“Ah ah! Yes, Mr Handford! I’m the butler to the infamous, Master Wayne, the BILLionaire!” Alfred winked and put a finger to his lips. “I see to Master Wayne’s estate and cook him meals.”
Simon stared at Alfred, waiting for him to crack and let on that he was messing with him, but the man stuck to his story as he continued.
“As I was saying, the world around you is much bigger than what you think you know. We live among you, the characters in your favorite stories and we’re very real. You haven’t noticed because you believe the storytellers have created us in their minds, as well as the worlds that we reside in, but the truth is, those storytellers are actually historians, biographers. They write from experience and about the people they grew up with or studied.” Simon was so befuddled that he didn’t notice that the elevator had been stopped for awhile, and the doors were wide open.
“I know this is a lot for you to take in, but long ago, a great man from a place you’ve no doubt read about in a book, realized that there were some among him who were blind to circumstances and others around them, even to the point where they couldn’t see people, and places. It’s as if their brains weren’t able to process all that was around them. So, this man decided to write about those things unseen, and he started selling his stories to the very people who couldn’t see what he saw. And he found it to be quite profitable, so much so, that others from different regions did the same for their homes, and so on. The longer time went on, the number of people who couldn’t see our reality, grew and grew until there were far more who couldn’t see, than there were of those who could.”
Simon’s expression went from one of confusion to that of complete disbelief. His mouth was slightly ajar and one of his eyebrows was raised, making clear to Alfred, his skepticism. “You’re either very creative, or completely insane. In any case, I should be going. I clearly don’t belong here.”
“In time, you will see that I speak the truth, but for now, let’s get to the real reason I asked you here: to play an epic game of Hide N Seek. In the process, your eyes will be opened.” Alfred walked out of the elevator without another word.
Simon regarded his options and just when he was leaning towards ditching the old man, he noticed for the first time that the elevator had no buttons; no way to tell it where you want to go. “Perfect,” he said aloud to himself, and with a deep exhale, he stepped out of the elevator and found himself in what felt like a closet. The narrow room was too small to be anything but a place to stand and it seemed far smaller than the opening of elevator which had now closed on it’s own, leaving Simon in what could most accurately be specified as a coffin. The room had no light and no windows. Simon frantically felt for a doorknob or handle, anything that could get him out. He started banging on the walls, “Hey, let me out of here, old man! I didn’t sign up for this!”
In between the pounding on the walls and the yelling, Simon could swear he heard voices. It started as muffled grumbling, and became more pronounced as he pressed his ear on the wall. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but it sounded like a strong, male voice, followed by cheers and laughs?! Was this junior high all over again?! “Stop it! Let me out of here NOW!!” That’s when the strong voice became clear and amplified as if from a megaphone, “Simon Handford!!!”
And with that, all four walls surrounding Simon fell to the floor. Lights flooded his eyes, temporarily blinding him. Simon put his hands in front of his face to try to block the rays and he slowly opened his eyes to a squint. He still couldn’t see much more than light, but he knew the room he was now in was much larger than the tiny box that held him captive! He started to make out more voices; several hundred voices, all speaking and cheering and laughing. And as his eyes adjusted, he could see his estimations were quite low… there were thousands of people, in stadium seating, surrounding a massive arena, where Simon stood in the middle, on a platform, stories above the floor. Before he could stumble from shock and fall to his death, a hand rested on his shoulder, holding him upright.
“Here he is, friends! Simon Handford, the first boy from the others, worthy enough to join our world and compete in this game!” Simon recognized the voice as the strong one he heard from the box. He looked up to see another old man, but this one looked even more familiar than the first: he had a long, white beard with matching white hair, bright, white robes, eyes that looked like they held all the knowledge of every universe and a staff that he was using as a microphone, to somehow amplify his smooth, commanding voice. It was the most convincing and well constructed Gandalf the White that Simon had ever seen. It was an even better representation than the one in the trilogy.
“And that wraps up the introductions of this year’s Hiders. Now, for the Seekers.” The lights went out and the crowd erupted as fireworks and flames shot from everywhere. People were going nuts; waving flags and banners, spinning weird devices that made sound, shooting balls of light from what looked like wands; Simon couldn’t believe the level of quality in the spectacle before him. He looked around for the other Hiders, but couldn’t see anyone other than the guy dressed as the wizard on the platform, but as he scanned the arena, he started to see new platforms rise in the shadows, each with a figure standing on top.
“Here they are: the ones who will be hunting down our contenders as they do their best do camoflauge themselves in our magically designed and never-before-seen-by-anyone stage, the Hidden City. Firstly: the infamous consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes!” A spotlight shown on the first platform, illuminating a man in a long trench coat, a deerstalker hat and sporting a lit tobacco pipe.
“Secondly: one of the greatest bounty hunters in the galaxy, Boba Fett!” The next spotlight poured over another perfect cosplay. The man looked exactly like the bounty hunter from Star Wars, sans blaster, but with the very same jetpack that the character used to fly around, chasing Han Solo. Simon was starting to feel the story the old man was feeding him wasn’t as far-fetched as he thought. “No Simon, don’t be stupid!” Simon said outloud to himself, “it’s just an extremely elaborate show. Yeah, that’s it. There’s probably a film crew down there somewhere taking cues from someone like Spielberg or Cameron!”
The wizard continued, “Thirdly: my great friend and ally, Aragorn, the Ranger King of Middle Earth!” The level of cheering and hollering grew exponentially. It was deafening!
Gandalf waited until the excitement lowered before lifting a hand to calm the yelling down to a silence so he could announce the final Seeker.
“And lastly: a man who has found more hiders than any other; one of the greatest detectives in any realm; the dark knight himself.” A spotlight shown over the final platform, which stood empty. The crowd that was screaming, became silent in disappointment as confusion to where final Seeker may be. But a sudden explosion from above shattered the silence and a large figure descending from above: A massive bat-like figure glided from overhead, gracefully flying through the air, and landed slowly on the platform like he did in every movie and comic book that Simon had ever seen with the caped crusader. Simon gasped: “Holy crap… it’sBatman.” The crowd went insane.