by Ryan Rinsler
“Right? About what?”
“It’s real. They tell you it’s a simulation but really, well, they are sending you to these alternate universes.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Apparently it is.”
Jacob took a swig of whiskey and topped up both their glasses. “So you’re telling me we can travel between universes?”
“Not exactly.” He grabbed his bag and took out a few pieces of folded paper. Flipping through them he stopped as he found the note he was looking for. “So, apparently they can only pass, umm... charged protons and electrons through to the other places.”
“Light, or electricity.”
“Yeah.”
“So that means that can see what’s on the other side then.”
“Huh?”
“That’s all vision is — light. If light can pass from one universe to the other then it makes sense to assume that they can get some kind of picture of what it looks like.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“So where does this Reality thing come into it?” asked Jacob.
“Remember that brain cap I told you about? Well, apparently they use that to transmit your brainwaves through to the other universe where you control another person remotely.”
“Brainwaves?” The concerned confusion on Jacobs face increased dramatically. “Hold on,” he said. “This simulation where you become someone else, is actually your mind traveling through some kind of portal to an alternate universe where you control the body of a person on the other side?”
Connor laughed nervously. “Exactly.”
“And this is a game that people pay for?”
“Well, nobody knows the reality of it, so to speak.”
Jacob looked skeptical. “And why would they fabricate this story about it being a simulation?”
“Not sure. For me the thought of actually being inside another person’s body makes me feel sick. Also, maybe it’s not that ethical.”
“And for what purpose? Why would they offer people this... this game?”
“I really don’t know. The man I met told me it’s some kind of research project, and he said something about terrorism too, but I didn’t know what he meant.”
Jacob’s skeptical demeanor hadn’t diminished.
“Look, look, I know how you hate conspiracy theories, but seriously dad, I’ve seen it myself. With my own eyes.”
“You’ve seen what, exactly?”
“I’ve seen the other side. The people, the way they are. I’ve spoken to people from these worlds who told me all this.”
Jacob took a deep breath in. “So… assuming all this is what you think it is… how?”
“How do they do it? I’ve no idea.”
He scratched his head and grimaced. “This isn’t what I expected you to need advice on.”
“Well…” Connor said hesitantly. “That’s not it.”
Jacob looked nervous.
“The multiple universes aren’t like the sci-fi novels I expected,” he explained. “A tech guy in the other world told me about it — apparently they’re all very similar to ours.”
“I always suspected that would be the case. Often my students would talk of talking cars and flying elephants, but I would always tell them to forget all that bollocks. My thoughts were that each universe would be bound by the same rules. Although, evolution can throw up some huge twists along the way.”
“Well, our world, this world we live in, it should have been very different.”
“How do you mean?”
“Through Pure Reality, I was shown what the world should have been if it wasn’t for my accident.”
Jacob looked intrigued. “Your accident? Your parent’s accident changed the world?”
“Exactly. The aftermath, with my parents’ company being folded and sold off. It was the best thing that could have happened, seriously. I’m thankful now that it did. We all should be.”
“How can the liquidation of a communications company save the world? And what exactly did it save the world from?”
“Trust me, dad, these other worlds are a lot different to ours. They’re like some, I dunno, they’re like some Draconian hell.”
“Draconian?”
Connor widened his eyes and shook his head slowly. “Really, dad. The streets were deserted, guards everywhere, people acting like they were brainwashed — it was like being in a nightmare.”
“And these other worlds — your accident didn’t happen?”
“From what I’m told, ours is one of the only worlds where it did. The rest of them, where Voss Inc. still existed, well, it eventually became Silk.”
Jacob’s frown deepened. “So, Silk Corporation is Voss? Who is their CEO?”
Connor returned the question with an awkward smile. Jacob’s face dropped.
“I inherited an empire instead of a fortune.”
“You know this for sure?” asked Jacob.
“I saw myself with my own eyes.”
“I guess that explains why no-one knows who the CEO is here,” said Jacob flippantly. “And why is there a Silk Corp here in our world if Voss dissipated?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t think to ask. It’s like a war zone there dad – these resistance groups are fighting against them and getting captured and killed all over. That’s why they got me involved.”
“To fight yourself?”
“I guess so. They think having me there to help might shift the balance of the game.”
“That’s quite a moral conundrum. How do you feel about that?”
“Fighting myself? I’m responsible for it so I need to help bring it down,” said Connor confidently.
“And they tell you most other worlds are like this?”
He shrugged. “Apparently.”
“But you’ve only been to one?”
“You sound suspicious,” said Connor with a slight smile.
“No, no, I just feel you should know everything before you sign your life up to helping these people. I mean, it sounds to me like you don’t really know who they are.”
Jacob had a point, but he had to trust his gut. “Even if it is just their world, should I not help anyway?”
Jacob smiled, and after a moment’s thought, nodded. “It’s interesting how these other versions of you turned out so differently,” he said. “I can only put it down to the pure and morally perfect upbringing you were given by your surrogate father.”
Connor smiled. “You joke, but I imagine that has a lot to do with it. From what I remember of my parents, they were cold, lifeless assholes who saw us as nothing but robots to continue their legacy. When I arrived here and you took me in, I began to realize that parents actually hold their children, and listen to them, you know? You taught me a sense of morality I hadn’t even conceived, and you brought me out of the darkest time in my life. I took your surname and became Connor Cooper, leaving Aaron Voss behind. The other versions of me obviously never had that.”
Matt snorted himself awake. “So your name isn’t Connor Cooper?” he muttered.
The two of them turned and looked at him. “It is now,” said Connor, turning back to Jacob with a smile.
He reciprocated warmly. “So what’s your plan?”
“We don’t really have one yet. I guess we somehow need to work from here, in this world. We can’t use Pure Reality to get to the other worlds because obviously that’s owned by Silk Corporation, but Mana, the resistance guy from the other world, gave us the address of an old resistance fighter here. I met him on the other side.”
“That Nolan guy?” asked Matt.
“Yeah, that tech guy I mentioned before, but I don’t think he fights with the resistance anymore here. He’s gone into hiding apparently.”
“And you have to find him?”
“Yeah and all I have is an old address where he lived, like, twelve years ago,” he replied, sifting through his notes. “Bakersfield some way.”
“And how will
he help you?”
“They didn’t tell me much, only that he can help us get back into their world. And that’s if we can even find him.”
Jacob thought for a moment. “You asked about my Silk appliances because you’re worried about being tracked.”
Dammit. He had forgotten how intelligent Jacob was. “It’s just a precaution,” he lied.
“Well, precaution or not, you can take my pickup on your journey,” he replied. “It’s nothing like your sports car but it will mean they won’t know it’s you.”
Connor smiled. Jacob would give his soul for Connor if he believed in all that nonsense. He had always been the same — selfless and forgiving — and Connor felt now just as he’d always done — completely undeserving of it.
“Thank you,” he said, genuinely.
“And what do you need me for?”
“I need your science,” he replied. Jacob’s eyes lit up in response. “I need you to help us understand what we’re dealing with here, and what we can do.”
“Great. I’ll get started straight away,” he said, eagerly.
“Don’t use the internet though, dad.”
“No, no, of course not. I have quite the library here you know.”
“I don’t doubt that,” replied Connor with a smile.
“When are you heading off?”
“I thought we would go in the morning.”
“Great!” exclaimed Jacob, rubbing his hands. “Steak?”
4
Shit, shit, shit, shit. Stanley was panicked, panting as he walked. Need to get a message.
Hurriedly striding through the Pure Reality lobby he once again avoided eye contact with every living soul. It was normal to go unnoticed at Pure Reality HQ, the mindless employees also walking quickly with their heads down, either buried in their BlackBooks or just being generally anti-social. Noticing a closing elevator he ran and slid in sideways between the closing doors, smoothly slotting himself between two people who towered over him like statues. They gave a cursory glance as he pressed for the thirtieth floor, then returned their attention to their BlackBooks. The elevator moved swiftly, and as silently as the people inside it, Stanley watching nervously as the floors clicked agonizingly upward.
As soon as they realize I didn’t hand in the BlackBook I’ll be downstairs up against a wall, he thought, half-knowing it was paranoia, but all the while not ruling it out. He flinched each time the door opened, his stomach churning with the thought of a Scout waiting behind it, ready to take him downstairs. It was risky using the elevator — anyone could step in at any time. Anyone could be waiting for him on the other side as he reached his destination.
Thirteenth floor.
He burst from the elevator before the doors had even properly opened, staggering as he slipped on the glossy marble tiles. His quick footsteps reverberated around the empty corridors, the muffled sound of talking creeping from the closed doors being the only indication of life. It was now late-afternoon and the cold winter light filled the white halls, the shadows deep and colors muted. The drop in temperature made Stanley shiver, which was exacerbated by his quiet panic and fear of what may happen within the next few hours.
Neil, whose lab he was now almost jogging toward, was one of the most helpful and knowledgeable guys on their side. He made quick decisions and often got the resistance out of trouble, as he had done earlier that day for Stanley, and right now he was needed to help make contact with Connor. Despite the added spotlight now on him, being able to speak openly to anyone, especially a client, was out of the question. They had to think of something else.
Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from a distance. Stanley cowered in a doorway, peering around carefully. It was Neil, walking, head down with two Scouts either side. Stanley’s blood ran cold. He slunk backward, further into the doorway.
He’s busted, he thought, frantically. That’s it. I’m next.
He opened the door on which he was leaning and slid into the darkness of the small windowless room on the other side. Closing the door behind him, he slid to a crouch, pressing his back against it as hard as he could as he listened to the footsteps pass by, then waited as they gradually faded from earshot.
He waited in silence.
Got to go.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his lab coat and opened the door, gingerly peering through the tiny gap. With only a small section of the corridor visible past the deep doorway, he listened carefully for any movement, before stepping out. He had no time to dawdle. He clenched his buttocks and set off down the corridor as quickly as he could, treading lightly on his toes and looking anxiously through the windows of the offices he passed. He didn’t know where he was going now — the man he was on his way to see had just been escorted away by two Scouts – his only plan scuppered before he could even speak to Neil. He had to find out what had happened to him.
Reaching Neil’s lab he peered through the window in the door and saw two young people sat working at one of the benches. Ensuring there was no one else in the room, he pushed open the door, and stepped in as casually as possible.
“Neil here?” he asked.
The two girls looked up. “He just left,” one of them said nervously, noticing Stanley’s red level six ID card.
“Any idea where he went?” asked Stanley, messing awkwardly with the door handle so as to appear casual, yet likely failing miserably.
“No, sir, two men just came in and asked him to go with them.”
“Sounds like my kind of party!” said Stanley with a forced laugh, still keeping his voice low. The two girls looked startled and embarrassed, blushing as they glanced at each other, laughing awkwardly. “Who were they?”
“They, uh, they didn’t have any ID. They just spoke to him in his office then they all left.”
“OK thanks,” he said, turning and leaving quickly. Dammit, dammit, he thought, he’s dead. I’m dead. Game over. Need to send that message.
He walked briskly, almost running back to the elevator, then at the last second diverting his course and banging through a door and into the stairwell. He was now on his own, and had only one option.
He sprinted down the steps as quickly as he could, seven floors flying by in the blink of an eye until he reached the level of his own lab. After a swift, silent jog, he paused at the entrance to the lab, in which three interns were working, heads down. This was a common occurrence in and around the labs of their zone, with interns coming and going, using various labs for whatever assignment they’d been tasked with. Stanley appreciated the company, often engaging in long chats with those that strayed by his lab, but now he wanted to slip by them unnoticed.
The labs themselves were all very similar, at least in Stanley’s zone. He’d long since separated himself from the intensity of the cutting edge research and development zones of Pure Reality and its ancillary projects, and was now comfortable with the more calm day-to-day activities of running a general debugging lab, far away from the frenzied and cut throat epicenter of the Silk technology center.
Holding his breath, made his way lightly to his office in the corner of the room – a shoebox in which he could work independently, or as independently as Silk would let him, and once through the door he closed and locked it quietly. With a slide of his thumb on a control panel attached to the wall, the privacy glass tinted to complete opacity, giving him a small haven of relative peace.
He sat on the floor for a few minutes to catch his breath.
Eyes would still be upon him. Eyes were everywhere, he knew that. Although the monitoring was the responsibility of humans, meaning he wouldn’t have eyes on him one hundred percent of the time, he wouldn’t know whether he was being watched from minute to minute. His current behavior was erratic, and if anyone had watched him for more than a minute, they would have picked up on it and come knocking on his door. He needed to act normal.
Turning to a pile of seven or eight boxes stacked against the wall, stood and clear
ed some space on the floor, moving to the side medical equipment and various artifacts that had never found a home. Then, one by one, he pulled the boxes down, opening them up and rummaging through the contents. Old files, electronic gadgets, photo frames, decommissioned BlackBooks. He found himself stopping every now and then, reminiscing about something he had long forgotten, the boxes having been there since his first day at the Pure Reality offices some six years before, before suddenly remembering the urgency and bursting into activity again.
Suddenly he saw what he was after. He pulled out a small white box-shaped device, a thick, rather inflexible cable trailing after it, examining it for any visible problems before stuffing it inside his lab coat. He stood up and surveilled the lab — still the same three interns, still minding their own business.
He had to get past them again and get back into the stairwell. The less people who knew of his whereabouts the better. I got in here, I can get out again. The moment he placed his hand on the office door handle, the lab doors opened, in walking two suited men. Stanley gasped. Even though the privacy glass was completely black from the outside, he ducked behind his desk, peering above it nervously as they began a conversation with the interns. Not able to hear what they were saying, he examined their body language, and with open gestures toward the small office in which he was now cowering, it clearly showed they were talking about him. He panicked and sat on the floor, back to the wall, waiting silently, rubbing his hands together with worry. Falling victim to his curiosity, he plucked up some courage and slid himself up slowly, looking through the window once more. The men were still there, but one of them was on a call, the other still talking to the interns. Their body language this time told Stanley they had no idea he was in the office, so he sat tight and waited.
After a few more minutes the men left the room, so Stanley, crouching as low as possible, opened his office door quietly and crept into the lab. He shuffled between the benches, much less confident than when he first entered the room. Due to his relationship with the interns, and the common perception of the Scouts, he was fairly certain that if he’d sworn them to secrecy, the interns wouldn’t have told them he was in his office even if they knew he was.
