by Zales, Dima
“Great.” I catch my hands tightening, squashing the last bit of Food. “Forbidden tech—sign me up.” I stuff the tortured piece of Food into my mouth.
“There is nothing to worry about. The Adults are total worrywart-luddites when it comes to technology.” Phoe’s voice takes on those passionate pet-peeve overtones. “Under the pretext of avoiding the next cataclysm, they label harmless stuff as—”
“Okay. Never mind. Just tell me how to play this thing.”
“We’ll need to hack you in.” Phoe jumps to her feet. “How else?”
“I assume you don’t mean hacking a bar of Food into pieces,” I subvocalize and clear my throat.
She bobs her head. “Correct. I mean the kind of hacking that lets one do things one isn’t supposed to do.”
“Right. Can you be a bit more cryptic?” I exhale audibly, the way I would while meditating. “Please just tell me what this ‘hacking’ will entail this time around?”
“To start, I need to tap into your brain or, more specifically, into the nanocytes that interface with your neurons.”
My eyebrows go up, and I squint at her.
“Okay, even more super-specifically, do you remember what you were doing the day we met?”
I nod. How can I ever forget that day? It all started when, on a whim, I gestured for extra Screens after having noticed that if you gesture for one after you already have one in front of you, you get two Screens. On that day, I decided to push that discovery further. I gestured for a third, then a fourth Screen, and kept going (I was very bored while learning about the evils of the Industrial Revolution). Sometime during my three hundredth Screen, the world around me momentarily blurred, and that was when I heard Phoe’s voice for the first time.
“Yes, bringing up those Screens created a buffer overrun that I was able to exploit,” Phoe says. “So this time, I need you to do the same thing: bring up a ton of Screens. I already created a safe virtual reality space for you to inhabit, a place that will let me pipe you into the game.” More quietly, she adds, “In theory, at least.”
Not feeling particularly confident, I do as she asked and start bringing up Screens.
“Just a few more,” she says when I feel my wrists beginning to ache from the repetitive gesture. “And you could summon these screens mentally, you know.”
I decide to play along and mentally summon another boatload of Screens.
When I get to about three hundred Screens again, the world blurs the way it did on that fateful day, and I’m no longer sitting in the forest.
I’m flying.
Or falling.
Whatever motion this is, it’s happening incredibly fast.
I’m bodiless, like a ray of light. The world around me is a surreal white tunnel, and I fly/fall through it, heading somewhere.
The experience reminds me of those ancient rollercoaster park commercials, only scarier.
Just as suddenly as the feeling started, it ends.
I have my body back.
I’m standing in a new space.
To call this a room would be the understatement of the decade; it looks more like an ancient cave. It’s dark, except for the shadowy light coming from luminescent creatures crawling on top of majestic stalactites and stalagmites. On my left are a couple of big barrels. One has the word ‘Gunpowder’ written across it, another has ‘Gin,’ and a third barrel has a skull-and-crossbones sign.
I try the usual illumination-summoning gesture by folding my index finger into a hook and flicking it up, the way the ancients used to turn on light switches.
To my relief, the cave brightens, and I can see details more clearly.
The cave is filled with a medley of forbidden objects, from guns and swords to posters of nude ancient models. Ancient magazines are scattered on the floor, and throughout the cave, Screens are playing violent movies and video games.
“What do you think of your ‘man cave’?” Phoe asks from behind me.
“It’s something,” I say, turning to look at her. “It’s like a—”
I don’t finish my thought, because I can actually see her. I have to force myself to blink a few times as a rush of adrenaline tingles through my body.
She’s changed.
She’s no longer the ghostly presence she’s been since the Zoo.
She looks real now, if ‘real’ can be applied to a woman who’s unlike anyone I’ve ever seen.
She looks as though she stepped out of an ancient magazine. With her pixie-cut blond hair, overlarge blue eyes, and small, delicate features, she reminds me of Tinkerbell.
“Hey now.” She flaps her long eyelashes at me. “That’s insulting. I’m five foot nine—hardly as tiny as a fairy.”
That’s true. She’s almost as tall as ancient models were, with the same kind of legs that seem to go on and on. As I stare at her, I also get a better view of her slim hourglass body—more than what was possible when she was ghostly. Her proportions are those of the ancient models too.
Something about her appearance fascinates me, but I can’t tell what it is. I look her up and down, my eyes oddly drawn to the cleavage of her dress—something else I’ve only seen in movies, as Oasis girls don’t wear anything that shows that much skin.
“Stop it. You’re making me blush.” Phoe gives me a mischievous smile. “Your hormones are starting to work the same way as those of an ancient male your age.”
She’s not really blushing, but I am. She’s insinuating all sorts of taboos that I don’t even want to think about, so I just say, “Okay, now that we’re here, what’s next?”
“First, I want to test whether you can come in and out of this virtual space, your man cave, with a gesture I invented for the occasion. I don’t want you to have to bring up the three hundred screens every time.”
“Okay,” I say, ungluing my eyes from the place where her red dress meets her slender shoulders.
“Take your middle fingers and stick them out like this.” She flips me off with both hands, the backs of her middle fingers sticking out triumphantly.
“Hey.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Did you design this gesture to ensure I get into Quietude every time I use it?”
“Well, if you mentally say, ‘Fuck fuck,’ it’s the equivalent to the physical command.” She chuckles. “But we both know you prefer gestures. In any case, you obviously shouldn’t escape to this place when you’re in front of other people, since in the outside world, you’d be as cognizant of your environment as a rock. So it doesn’t matter what the gesture is.” She examines the red nail polish on her middle fingers—something I also stare at since I’ve only ever seen nails painted red (or any color) in ancient media. “I had to invent a gesture and command that isn’t already in use, and, well, this was available.”
“Right. Usually, like right now, I just want to give you a single-finger gesture,” I say and flip her off, even though a part of me instinctively cringes at the accompanying memories of lengthy Quietude sessions.
“That’s almost it,” Phoe says, her expression deadpan. “You just have to do it with both hands, like this.” She double flips me off again.
“Never mind.” I make the double-middle-finger gesture just so we can stop conversing about it.
In a whirl of whiteness, I’m bodiless again. I fall through the surreal tunnel and experience the disorienting effect that accompanies the fall.
With startling suddenness, the white tunnel becomes the green of the pine trees around me.
“Now try going back the same way,” Phoe’s voice says in my head.
I do the gesture, and the trip starts anew.
When I’m back in my virtual man cave again, I say, “Okay, that worked. How do I do the next part?”
“That’s easy,” Phoe says. “I created a similar gesture.” She makes the double flipping sign sideways, and then connects her middle fingers together in front of her chest. “You have to do this, but it will only work from here. You can’t get to the game directly from t
he real world.”
I begin connecting my middle fingers together.
“Wait, Theo.” She walks over to me, getting so close that I can smell a hint of roses.
Perfume is another thing Youths don’t wear, a rational part of my brain thinks. The more irrational part is not thinking at all, particularly when Phoe gets even closer, hugs me—a social interaction from the movies—and pecks me gently on the cheek in another movie-only action.
My breath catches. I feel as though energy is flowing from where her pouty lips are touching my skin. It’s moving down through my whole body and into somewhere in my crotch region. I feel a strange urge to grab her and bring her closer to me.
She steps back. “No time for that now. The search party is getting closer.”
My heart is beating faster than when I ran through the forest.
Is this what the ancients felt? Again, I wonder how the poor slobs functioned on a day-to-day basis. Then again, whatever I felt from her nearness was not unpleasant.
“Focus, Theo.”
I blink at her. “How do I beat this thing? What should I expect?” I say, trying to, literally, get my head back in the game.
“I honestly don’t know,” Phoe says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there is some kind of a puzzle or quest you’ll need to complete, or a phobia you’ll need to face. It might be the usual fare of video games, or it could turn weird on you. I simply don’t know for sure. Your mind is a key component in this. Colorful, recent, and traumatic past events can play a large role—”
“Sounds lovely.” I almost manage to convince myself that my nervousness is related to the upcoming task.
“No matter what happens, it’s no more real than this place is.” She sighs and gives me a regretful look. “If there was an easier way, I assure you, we’d do that.”
I suppress the urge to wet my lips. “And if I get killed?”
“Nothing scary would happen in that case.” Her tone is gentle. “You’d simply return here and have to start the game over.”
“Okay, I’m ready,” I say with a confidence I wish I actually felt.
“Once you’re in the game, I’ll do my best to patch myself through and talk to you,” she says.
“Wait, I’m going to be by myself?” I’m unsure why, but this idea scares me more than anything else. “I thought you’d be with me from the start.”
“I don’t know how to communicate with you once you’re in there, but I’ll figure it out, I’m sure.” She steps toward me and puts her hand on my shoulder.
I feel instant relief. It’s as though warmth is spreading from the place where her hand is resting.
“Theo, stop stalling.” She pointedly glances at my hands.
I take my middle fingers and connect them in front of my face in some odd parody of the ancients’ sobriety test.
As soon as my fingers touch, I become that ray of light again and begin flying through a rollercoaster of whiteness.
11
I look around.
I’m back in the pine forest, exactly where I was before I entered my man cave.
“Shit,” Phoe’s voice says in my head. “It didn’t work.”
I look around but see neither her ghostly nor her real visage.
“What now?” I think to no one in particular.
“I have to come up with another plan,” she says. “I think, given the situation, I have no recourse but to meet with you—physically.”
“Wait, what do you mean by that?” I subvocalize.
“No time to explain,” she says. “Start heading in the direction of the Barrier, on your left.”
I turn.
“No, your other left,” she says. This time, her voice comes from behind me.
I turn around and cautiously begin walking.
“You might want to move your feet faster,” Phoe says. “The Guards are searching for you.”
“I just don’t understand.” I rub my chin. “What do you mean by ‘meet physically’?”
“You wanted to know who I am, right?” Phoe sounds exaggeratingly mysterious. “Due to these unfortunate events, you’re getting your wish. We’re about to meet in the flesh.”
I jerk my head back, in part to dodge a tree branch, but also to respond to Phoe. “But I thought—”
“Theo,” a new female voice says loudly.
It’s not Phoe’s, but it is familiar.
“We’ve searched the whole forest for you,” the voice says. “I was so worried.”
I locate the speaker; she’s standing to my right.
Red hair fills my vision, and I realize it’s Grace.
A horrible idea enters my mind: Could Phoe be Grace? She did say she’d meet me in the flesh, and here is a flesh-and-blood girl…
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Phoe sounds as though she’s standing next to Grace. “I’m not this pathetic little girl, I assure you.”
I take a step toward Grace, raking my hand through my hair.
“Please don’t move, Theo.” Grace takes a careful step back, her whole body tensing. “Don’t move, or I will scream.”
“She’ll probably scream anyway.” Phoe’s voice wavers. “Fuck.”
“Okay.” I try to smile at Grace.
“Don’t grimace at her like that. You’ll make the situation worse,” Phoe says.
“Shut up,” I think at Phoe. “What now?” I say to Grace.
A hmm noise comes from Grace’s throat. “You’ll come back with me?” She taps her index finger against her chest as if I don’t know what she meant by ‘me.’
“So that I can follow Mason’s fate?” I stare at her incredulously. “So you can get me into even more trouble?”
“Theo, I—” Her lips tremble. “When I told them about your ramblings about this mason thing, I didn’t think it would get so bad.”
“Mason is not a thing—”
“She doesn’t remember him,” Phoe cuts in.
“Never mind.” I force myself to speak calmly since Grace could decide to scream at any moment. “I don’t want to come with you.”
“If you don’t, things will get worse for you.” Grace looks genuinely saddened by this.
“I doubt it could get any worse.” Seeing that she’s getting nervous, I soften my tone. “Please, Grace. Can you pretend you didn’t find me? No one is monitoring this forest, so the Adults will never find out. You wouldn’t get into trouble.” I inhale, and on the outbreath say, “Please, Grace.”
Instead of answering, Grace takes a step in my direction, then another.
Her blue eyes glimmer as she stops in front of me. Lifting her hand, she lays it on my shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze.
Given that Phoe just did the same thing to me, I wonder again whether Phoe is Grace after all.
“I’m not,” Phoe whispers. “Now don’t spook her or you’re screwed.”
Fighting the temptation to stare wildly at Grace’s hand on my shoulder, I gently cover her hand with mine.
Grace’s face contorts with emotions I can’t pinpoint. Her lips part slightly, as if she’s about to say something, but then she lets go of my shoulder and leans in closer.
“I won’t tell them I saw you,” she whispers softly, her lips almost brushing against my ear. “But please don’t tell on me when they catch you.”
I open my mouth to say, “If they catch me,” but nothing comes out.
“Say, ‘Thank you, Grace,’ give her a peck on the cheek or whatever, and run.” Phoe’s voice sounds as though she’s talking through gritted teeth.
“Thank you, Grace,” I parrot, but I don’t kiss her. “Thank you.”
I slowly back away, then turn my back on her and start walking.
Grace doesn’t say anything.
When I’m about twenty yards away, I look back.
She looks frozen solid, still standing where I left her, her gaze burning holes in my back.
I walk some more and look back again, but Grace is gone.
I begin r
unning. I run as fast as I safely can with the branches hitting my face. I run because I don’t know whether Grace will keep her word and not tell on me.
I stop my mad dash when I see a male figure between the trees a few feet away. He’s leisurely walking away from me.
I’m glad I spotted him. If I’d continued running, he would’ve heard me. Maybe if I just wait, he’ll move on.
The person stops walking and starts gesticulating. He must’ve brought up his Screen and is doing something on it.
I flatten myself against a tree and observe the stranger. As I look at him, I realize there’s something familiar about this person’s slightly stooped, narrow shoulders.
“Walk softly,” Phoe suggests. “He shouldn’t hear you. Also, before you suggest something as ridiculous as this, that is not me.”
I decide to do as she suggested and take a soft step.
The forest is so silent and my heart is beating so loudly in my ears that I almost fear he can hear it.
The figure is still playing with his Screen.
I take another step, then another.
The problem with moving this way is that it will take me forever to get beyond his hearing range. The second problem is that it’s somehow more nerve-wracking to sneak by than it is to run away, as the deliberate slowness stretches out the unpleasantness.
I continue walking softly, keeping an eye on the guy—which turns out to be a mistake. I should’ve been looking down. I step on a dry branch, and it makes a cracking sound.
The guy’s head perks up, his large ears like those of a canine. That clicks something in my brain. I associate canines with hyenas, and from that, I finally realize whose back I’ve been staring at.
The Youth turns around, and I confirm my realization.
It’s Owen.
I try to hide behind the nearest pine, but it’s too late; he’s walking my way.
I come out to face him.
Owen gives me a carnivorous smile, then puts his index finger to his lips and makes a shhh sound.
“I think he’s threatening to scream if you run,” Phoe says. “Try to resolve this quietly.”
