Deadwave

by Michael Evans

  “But why? What’s the purpose? I mean, I see the purpose, the obvious purpose on both ends: money and escape. But how is any of this possible?” I sigh, wishing I could sit down and think for a minute, let my brain spit out all its thoughts as it is moving at light speed. “I’m sorry for all these questions. You know how I get. Everything is coming to me all at once, and after last night, I still don’t know what to think about all this. It’s just wow, and I don’t know if that’s an exciting or terrifying thing.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean there.” He starts shuffling to the side, his eyes trained on one of the pods. I follow his footsteps as he meanders over to it. “It’s still a wow for me. I’m not gonna fully believe it until it actually happens, but yes. As of right now, Chimera is set to roll out the initial launch of the Chimera Life Pods in four months at most, but hopefully a lot sooner. And my head will be spinning until it happens.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine.” Finally seeing my dad’s workplace makes me realize why he is such a prick. The high stress he is under is still no excuse for him to be a dick, but I at least now get where the impulse comes from, why he has been a Grade A asshole even before my mom died. “I never knew that this was really what was behind what you were doing this whole time. I always figured those late-night calls and long hours weren’t for a piece of software.”

  “No kidding.” He chuckles, a genuine smile, one that is of rare occurrence with my dad. “If you look right here,” he says, pointing inside the vesicle we approach, “this is the device we have been developing for the past fifteen-plus years.”

  For something that took so long to develop, it appears to be less intricate than I expected. On the outside, it literally is a large white pod encased in fiberglass, and on the inside, there is a layer of water that blankets the bottom of the dark interior with a mesh cap of electrodes attached to the top. At the end of the pod is the mount for a holograph with a number of different tubes feeding into a metal container with a digital touchpad on the side.

  “How does this thing even work?”

  “It’s quite simple, actually.” He brushes his hand against the smooth, cold glass of the pod that resembles something people would live in during a nuclear fallout. “We implant a chip in their brain that will capture all the data in it and effectively upload their consciousness to the mind cloud we have developed, which is capable of holding multiple zettabytes at the moment.

  “After the simple procedure that only cuts a tiny incision into the skull, we get them to decide what world they want to live in, and we can generate almost anything from their own dreams in a matter of minutes. Once the world is developed and their brain is uploaded to the cloud, they will be for all intents and purposes immersed into the virtual world.

  “These pods here serve the simple purpose of hooking up their consciousness to the virtual world through the electrode cap and bodysuit they have to wear that manages their vitals. Through the tubes we feed in a liquid that eventually encases their entire body and makes their organs cease functioning, essentially locking their body into place in an amniotic-like sac. In this state, only their brain in the cloud will exist, able to touch, feel, and sense like any normal being.

  “The system of monitors we have set up is to monitor their brain activity and ensure that all the surrounding conditions are in a precise range so that when ready to be unplugged, the people can easily emerge from the pods, showing minimal signs of aging and able to return back to the real world. We also have developed a software which allows people from outside of virtual worlds to communicate with people in it so that they don’t completely lose touch with reality. Through that same function is how they can choose to exit the world as well, or be notified when their funds are running out.”

  “Dang.” I put a hand up to my chin, a gesture I picked up from my dad. “That is maybe the coolest and craziest thing I have ever heard. So, you’re telling me that right now you could send me to a virtual world essentially forever?”

  “Yeah.” He smiles. “This is gonna be big. The initial testing begins in the next few weeks, in which federal and state inspectors will be ensuring our process is ethical and doesn’t violate anyone’s rights, but if approved as safe and lawful in its initial testing, yeah.” He pauses, looking up at the ceiling, the place my dad’s tired, wrinkled eyes always wander to when he is thinking. “I think this is the answer to famine. The answer to poverty, and the answer to abuse, loneliness, climate change, and artificial intelligence and robots taking over the workforce. This may be the cure. The cure the world has been searching for. And I can envision millions upon millions of people using this service, using Chimera, to propel themselves to a better life. To escape the pain of this world, for as long as they desire. Ever since I studied with my great mentor, Isaac Savery, in college, I knew that my purpose had to be poured into building this revolution. This is all the beginning of my only dream in life, and I’m willing to do anything to make it happen. It will all be worth it in the end. I hope my legacy is up there with the greats; it would shatter everything anyone ever thought about me while growing up. It will change everything.”

  “That’s unbelievable.” My dad is such a good salesman that in a few minutes he has me totally buying into his idea. His rough northern accent, yet confident tone and homely aura that seems to gravitate so many to him, almost make me forget to think for myself. “I just don’t know if that can really happen. Giving people the chance to leave this world may only make the problems in it worse. It would make everyone less accountable for others when we all can have an easy way out.”

  “There are downsides to everything.” His voice is firm, yet I can see his face loosen. Even he knows this is crazy. Even he knows he could be changing everything for the worse. “This upside, this potential, is too good to pass up, though. What this could mean for not only us, but the world. This could change the fabric of society forever. And that’s why those people are after you. They know about my plans. They know about the work Chimera is doing, likely through one of the employees here leaking it in the recent months as the project neared completion.

  “They want the power we have. They want to own this technology and become possibly the richest people in the world, but they can’t stop us. I won’t let that happen.” His tone grows sharper as he pounds his palm against the pod. “They don’t even have a chance.”

  “Well, I won’t allow them to kill me in the process.” I suddenly grow hysterical as I realize he is valuing a piece of technology over me. He thinks the massive data storage house his company has worked on for years to serve as the engine for game developers all over the world and now to harbor the minds of millions is more important than his own son. “I won’t allow you to sacrifice my life for this cause. I won’t allow you to put me in danger.”

  “Danger?” He laughs, the complete opposite reaction one would expect from a father who has his kid pleading to him, worried that his life is being jeopardized by his own parent. “It’s always dangerous at the top. Ruthless. This is a cold world. For years I have been dealing with this. With the blackmailers, the criminals, the fake friends. To live life at the top, it’s something you get used to. It’s something you will have to get used to, and fast.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wanted to show you this today for a number of reasons. The events of last night happened to have perfect timing.”

  “Excuse me?” I cut in, an accusatory tone in my voice. “How could me being kidnapped ever have perfect timing? What is wrong with you?”

  “I wanted to show you this because I need your help. I need to market this product to the masses. I want people to trust Chimera, to trust the virtual worlds, and hopefully enter inside of them. The goal is to replicate dozens of these compounds across the country, and maybe one day across the world, and that requires a marketing campaign like no other.”

  “That still doesn’t explain how last night was perfect timing.” I am beginning to near the volume of yelling
now, the frustration combining with the terror to create an awful feeling in my gut. “You’re not helping me feel better about any of this. How do you even expect me to feel?”

  “Will you shut up and let me talk?” He narrows his eyebrows at me, his fists clenched—the same fists that I always used to fear he would use on me—but the fear of his words will never go away. “This was supposed to be one of the most important days of your life. The day that set you up for your future.”

  “No, today was supposed to be the day you finally told me what has been happening to our lives. The day you tell me why anyone would be looking to kill me to get to you. The day you share something more about your past and current life and stop treating your own kid like he’s a stranger! The day you finally stop treating life as if Mom never existed since she plunged off those cliffs at Point Loma.”

  “That’s it.” I hadn’t said the word Mom since she was alive. I had never even acknowledged the fact that he forced us both to live in his delusional reality where he is happy, and where he never lost the love of his life. “Get out. We will finish this conversation at a later date. Clearly you aren’t ready for this yet. Clearly you can’t handle the truth.”

  “Dad, what the hell?!” I step forward towards him. Now that I am finally the same height as him, I feel somewhat more on an equal playing field with him when we speak. Yet I know that no matter what, I will always feel less than him. “All I want is the truth. All I want you to be is more open with me, more honest. I want you to tell me what is happening. And if you don’t know, that is okay too, but then we have to get the help of someone who knows. Because I will not allow my life to be extorted to help build your empire. I won’t sacrifice my life in the real world for a fake one. I can’t do that. And the fact that you are even willing to take that risk makes me not trust a single word you say!”

  I pause, taking a deep breath, expecting him to explode in that moment and force me out of the room. But instead he stands there, a sudden glassy look in his eyes, his lips frozen shut, unable to respond. My words seem to finally be breaking past the emotional wall he has put up to block everything out, and I know the only thing I can do is keep spitting out more words while I have a chance to make him listen. “It makes me feel like you put me into that same box as you did with Mom, and burned your feelings for everyone and everything in it. That now you only care about your goals. That all you have left is your ambition, and you use that to mask the fact that you are a miserable human being. I can see it in the redness, even the brown tinge to the circles beneath your lifeless eyes, but your whole body is trying to hide from it.

  “See, I don’t hide from that fact! I mean, yes, I escape into virtual worlds, killing zombies several hours a day, but the reality of how I feel and the events of the past few years always haunt me. All the memories I will never get back, and all the things I never got to say, never got to tell her—that regret won’t ever leave me. The regret I have for wasting what I didn’t realize were our last years together absorbed into a stupid video game. The regret I have for never realizing how much she was struggling, for not realizing all the things that she was feeling that made her capable of doing what she did.”

  I finally stop talking, my lips cracked from the dry, thin air and my chest wrought with tension. I hope this finally wakes him up. I await nervously, each millisecond seeming to take years to happen as I wait for him to finally say the words that I have quietly been hoping for him to say for years. To tell me that he loves me. To finally be vulnerable, and break the shell he surrounds himself in.

  “I said we will talk at a later date.” He finally opens his mouth, and the second I realize that the stoic, cold expression on his face will remain unbroken, I feel my heart sink into my stomach. “I have a ton of work to get done, so call a ride home. I promise it will all be okay. And please, I told you this, and I can’t say it again. I don’t wanna focus on the past. Let’s build a better future. Let’s focus on tomorrow, not today, not yesterday. Tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  That one simple, breathless word is all I can muster out of me after he finishes talking. I turn around, walking to the door without wasting another second of my time to say goodbye.

  It’s being let down by the people you hold up so high in your mind that hurts the most. It’s wanting love but not being able to find it that makes one feel the emptiest. It’s realizing that some people can listen, but most will never understand, that makes one feel the loneliest.

  I exit through the sliding glass door, the slam of my dad’s fists against the pod audible before the doors close. I even think I heard a slight wheeze, the sounds of him crying.

  Either way, it doesn’t matter.

  I won’t look back.

  I’ll keep my eyes, my mind, my everything glued forward.

  To the future—whatever the hell that means.

  Chapter 9

  I don’t know if I can do this.

  In fact, I know I can’t. It has been four days since I last played Deadwave. I forced myself to stream one day this week, the entire session as agonizing for me to play as it was for everyone watching. My mind is unable to return to the game after the night with Jake.

  Jake and I decided to play together just for fun, something that rarely happens nowadays. It’s the escape I needed, though. With my mind constantly on the verge of spinning out of control as I try to repress my terror and continue shouldering onward towards my dream, Deadwave isn’t even enough to take my mind away from reality. I need more, something even more potent, something that can take over my mind and keep it in a vegetative state for hours, and that’s exactly why I turn to drugs. And I don’t know if it was the substances we took beforehand or what, but every single zombie in the game looked exactly like my mom. Tall figure, blonde hair, blue eyes, and the zombies varying in weight to represent my mom at her lowest lows on the borderline of obesity and at her best when she looked like a model. After a pack of a dozen zombies—a pack of essentially clones of my dead mom—tore me apart, I have been unable to enter the worlds of Deadwave without the reminder of the blue eyes, and memories of my mom haunting me.

  When the drugs don’t work, that’s when I really know something is wrong. I guess I’m not the best at being in tune with my emotions. Being vulnerable is not my forte; even internally I utterly suck at it. Well, I’m not exactly bad at it, I am too scared to ever try, and oftentimes I don’t begin to realize that everything inside me is screaming at me to stop until I hit a breaking point.

  I have hit that breaking point, and it’s only happened one other time. The last time I resolved to end my life, and my father was there to stop me. This time I have no idea what I’m going to do, and even with Jake always there for me, I still feel alone. I feel like I can’t do this anymore, but the energy of the crowd makes me feel like I can do anything.

  I feel powerful.

  I look out at the crowd, thousands of people screaming with joy and excitement as the names of the players competing in tonight’s game are called. My name hasn’t been called yet, and there is a chance that when it is called, I won’t even hear it over the pounding in my skull.

  I will win.

  The thought has been echoing in my brain incessantly for hours. I blocked out everything and focused on that one thought from the second I entered the plane to fly to London, where today’s leg—the second-to-last competition before the Deadwave World Finals—is taking place.

  If I even want a shot at qualifying, I have to somehow find a way to win, despite me barely even getting out of bed the last few days. I seriously considered not showing up and forfeiting my place in the Deadwave World Tour, but Jake forced me to come. He knows how much winning means to me, how this is literally my entire life. What he doesn’t know is that I’m more afraid of failing and the subsequent pain I will feel than the joy from succeeding.

  If I lose, I will have nothing left.

  “RIVA OLDAGO!” the voice of the announcer booms in my ears, my stoma
ch churning as he’s seconds away from calling my name.

  The crowd goes absolutely apeshit at the sight of Riva stepping forward and bowing before them. She always handles herself so gracefully, so beautifully, that following her up always makes my subsequent reaction from the crowd seem like silence in comparison.

  My dad is probably prouder of her than he is of me. He has been sending me texts either at one a.m. or five a.m. the last few days, sending me clips of her streams, her competition gameplay, and the way in which she carries herself in front of reporters. He wants me to be like her. He wants me to have the biggest and most popular brand in all of eSports. And frankly, I don’t know what’s weirder: that he is watching an eighteen-year-old girl play video games when he should be sleeping, or that he is analyzing how she plays as if he is some analyst or an obsessed fan.

  I have already put so much pressure on myself to win, to vindicate myself for my past, that his late-night texts do nothing but add to it. No matter how much of an asshole he is, no matter how much I want to hate him, I will always love him. I will always want to be him even though I never can. I will always want to please him, even if it’s impossible to satisfy either him or myself.

  But if I don’t win, everything is over. If I don’t win, the board of my dad’s company won’t ever let me serve as the Director of Operations—my dad won’t allow it. It’s no secret that he cares more about the success of his company than my future, and if winning Deadwave weren’t my life dream, I would likely lose in spite of him. I’d likely lose so I would never be forced to take that job, forced to forge my own path in life, forced to escape his shadow so he can finally see me for who I am, rather than who he wants me to be.

  But that’s not an option. I need to prove myself that I can do something without his monetary help or vast connections; I need to do this alone.

  I need to win.