Reality Bytes

by Jane Frances

  Toni followed the respite care instructions to the letter, kept Virgil indoors, administered her antibiotics at the right times. The other sheet, well, Toni had always thought herself a responsible pet owner. She curfewed Virgil from sunset to sunrise and kept a bell on her collar. According to the fact sheet, these steps weren’t enough. Apparently, many cats learn to hunt without their bells making so much as a tinkle, and even well-fed felines would hunt prey purely for the sport of it, not because they were hungry. The sheet recommended keeping cats indoors all the time. Toni swiveled to look at Virgil, who was still sitting on the windowsill, looking longingly past the glass. Virgil had been given access to the outside world during daylight hours ever since she was a kitten, so suddenly stopping that privilege seemed cruel. Toni could only imagine the damage Virgil would cause to the house if her curfew became permanent. As it was, she protested the current state of affairs via her litter tray, kicking up the litter until it spread across the laundry, or refusing to use the tray at all.

  The fact sheet also suggested building a cat run—essentially a cage running from the house to the outside world. Toni tried to imagine such a construct, and putting Virgil in it. It conjured images of a pussycat prison. But—she glanced once more to the dove’s mound—she really had to do something. And considering the current emptiness of her backyard, there surely were some possibilities for a reasonably sized, non-prison-like run for Virgil. Toni stood and headed for her back door. Maybe there was someone local who could supply such an item.

  The fact sheet provided little guidance on the acquisition of a cat run, and Toni doubted she had the handywoman skills required to undertake the project herself. While she owned a fair set of tools—all housed in a gleaming red toolbox—none had really seen the light of day, except to tighten the odd screw or change a tap washer. She’d never even tried to knock up a spice rack, never mind cut a hole through an exterior wall of her house and construct an escape-proof wire module.

  There was little point ringing Virgil’s vet. If they had a list of contacts they would no doubt have been referenced on the fact sheet. So Toni tried a couple of pet stores. Her first call was answered by a shop assistant who sounded no more than fifteen years old. She’d never heard of a cat run and no, there was nobody else who could assist. Her second call connected her to a well-spoken woman who tried very hard to be helpful but wasn’t. Apparently the store stocked a lovely range of quite large bird aviaries that might do the trick. Toni said thanks, but no, that wasn’t quite what she was looking for. Call number three was answered by a gruff male who obviously had better things to do than try to solve a pet-related problem. “We have nothing like that here. I suggest you organize to have one built.” Then the line went dead.

  “Bastard.” Toni looked incredulously at the receiver and banged it back onto its cradle.

  Next she tried an Internet search. While it proved a lot more fruitful, it revealed no Perth-based companies that supplied ready-made cat runs. It seemed she would have to go the custom-built route. Probably costly. But—Toni patted Virgil, who had jumped onto her desk to see what she was up to—definitely worth it. And—Toni thought of her VISA card, which she had primed with funds just the day prior—it had been a while since she had splashed out on anything for the house or garden. She navigated back to a page that displayed an Adelaide yard nearing the dimensions of Toni’s. The cat run was integral to the landscape design.

  “That’s what we’re going to get done, Virg.” Toni pointed Virgil in the direction of the screen. Virgil tapped at the monitor with a paw and banged her still cone-encased head against Toni’s forearm. Given Virgil’s seal of approval, and excited at the prospect of a new project, Toni typed another query into Google.

  By midafternoon, some of her initial enthusiasm had waned. She had found and downloaded some free garden-design software but the program wasn’t exactly user-friendly. The promotional blurb on its Web site made it sound like one just entered the garden dimensions, dropped some virtual shrubs here, some paving there, maybe a water feature in the corner and—voilà!—instant landscaping brilliance. But after struggling with the program for what seemed like hours, Toni decided you get what you pay for. In this case, nothing. It didn’t matter where she tried to place her shrubs, they jumped somewhere else, and her attempt at drawing the outline for her cat run was nothing short of a disaster. Maybe she should have read the user manual. Oh, well, there was always good old pencil and paper. She stretched and yawned, closed her debacle of a design and glanced at her watch. She also refreshed the browser screen running in the background. Once the window recomposed she checked the contents. Nope, still no one in the Secret Garden. She had been checking intermittently over the past hour, just to see if anyone interesting came online.

  Toni stared glumly at the empty room window, knowing she was really hoping Kayisha’s name would appear.

  For the second time in as many days, Toni felt obsessive and stupid as she browsed through the rooms, hoping to find Kayisha in one of them. This just wasn’t like Toni. She had flitted in and out of chat for months, and never once had she worried if someone was online or they weren’t. And never, ever had she gone on a room-by-room search for someone. “Shit, Toni,” she muttered under her breath, “you’re acting like an online stalker.” She closed her browser, put her computer to sleep and glared at the black screen. Then she left the study altogether and made a BLT with the strips of bacon left over from the previous night’s Caesar salad. She fed most of it to Virgil because she wasn’t particularly hungry.

  Twenty minutes later, having decided she may as well read the user guide before reverting to pen and paper for her garden design, Toni was back in front of her computer. The manual was as manuals are, dry and dull. Not the most stimulating reading.

  “I’ll just have one more little look.” Toni reopened her browser, navigated to the Women’s Floor and for the umpteenth time that day, checked to see who was in the Secret Garden.

  Many topics had kept Emma awake overnight. Justine walked through her thoughts, as did Chris, her parents, Colleen and every other person who had crossed her path and tripped her up. All loomed larger than life, surrounding her and casting a shadow so encompassing it seemed impossible to emerge into the light.

  “It’s just so unfair.” She lay on her stomach and screwed her face into her pillow. She flopped an arm over the side of the bed and Kayisha nuzzled her hand, woofing softly, offering comfort.

  Emma lay that way until she could no longer breathe. She flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. It was then that it happened. She sat bolt upright in bed, hands on either side of her, anchoring her into position. Her thought was astonishingly simple, so simple she wondered why it had never occurred to her before: I am in control of my own destiny.

  Justine, Colleen, Chris, her parents. None of these people had any control over Emma except that which she allowed them. Her thought repeated, I am in control of my own destiny. Here she had been passing control with gay abandon, blaming everyone else for everything that went wrong in her life. When in actual fact they were just convenient reasons to continue doing nothing, to mark time instead of moving forward.

  Emma voiced her thought out loud. “I am in control of my own destiny.” Then she called Kayisha onto the bed and hugged the mass of fur that leapt at the opportunity to tread on usually off-limits territory. “Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life, Kai.”

  That old chestnut sounded outrageously dated when she said it, but she didn’t care. It was true. Tomorrow was a new day, and it would also be a new start.

  She lay back down, her mind turning over all the fresh possibilities. She draped one arm over Kayisha while Malibu nuzzled into the crook of her other. Surrounded by the nonjudgmental warmth and love of her companions, Emma closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but her mind had become just too active. Although it was only two a.m. she rose from her bed, settled at her kitchen table with a pot of tea, some paper and a pen and began
planning.

  Now, midafternoon on Saturday, Emma had already made inroads into her new day/new life. At first light she’d stepped into her backyard, built a little fire and sat cross-legged in front of it. Next to her sat a pile of papers. One by one she picked up each sheet, read it, screwed it up and threw it onto the fire. One by one she watched the sheets burn, and with the flames, she willed herself to let go of the fear that held her bound to the contents. She even managed to wish Chris and her partner well in life without referring to Bree as The Trollop. Paul still lived in the troglodyte category, but Emma refused to be too hard on herself. After all, it was still early days.

  The fire doused, and her little ritual complete, Emma returned indoors. She fed Kayisha and Malibu, showered, dressed and retrieved the Saturday paper from her front lawn. She scoured the employment pages, found nothing, so read the magazine section while munching on toast and sipping on Russian Caravan tea. Midmorning she moved from the kitchen to the lounge room, from paper to screen. No new postings appeared in the Veterinary Association’s online employment section. Despite her best intentions, panic rose.

  “Not to worry.” She swallowed it, moved quickly back to the search screen and entered a query requesting veterinary vacancies. Maybe not everyone listed with the association. She followed the links to a nationwide employment site that listed jobs in every conceivable profession. The position she applied for the day before was also listed on this site, as was her old position at Colleen’s practice. Nothing else suitable was listed for Western Australia, so Emma widened her search to the rest of the nation. Vets were required in general practices in suburbs of both Sydney and Melbourne. Figuring a five-hour flight to the other side of the country was only a little more inconvenient than a five-hour drive to the south of the state, Emma duly wrote some cover letters and whisked her résumé down the phone line. No sooner had she done this than she received another “you have been disconnected” message.

  The previous day’s experience told her there was little point trying to get back online immediately, yet her stubborn streak made her try anyway. Not surprisingly, her attempt was fruitless, but she still swore at the screen, vowing to cancel the contract with her Internet provider first thing Monday morning. She turned the computer off in disgust, stretched her arms high in the air and considered going for a run.

  She did head out with Kayisha, but her run soon became a walk, her leaden limbs complaining at the lack of rest the night before. Half an hour later she gratefully sank back into the chair in front of her computer. She hoped her ISP would now let her dial back in. It had just gone a quarter to three. If her memory served her correctly, that was about the time she’d entered the Secret Garden yesterday. So Pookie might be there. It was a long shot, thinking Pookie might log in at the same time and go to the same room, but there was no harm in trying. After all, Emma really did want to let Pookie know it wasn’t her fault for just disappearing yesterday.

  Plus it would be nice to talk to her again.

  Emma held her breath as her modem beeped and blipped. Within a minute she was in, had logged onto the chat site and navigated to the Secret Garden. To her dismay it was empty. Maybe Pookie, unlike Emma, had a life and more to do on a Saturday afternoon than sit in front of a screen. “Stop it!” Emma rebuked herself for her creeping self-pity, aimed her mouse at the “close window” icon and…Pookie’s name appeared.

  Emma had no idea why her heart began to pound. She attributed it to her impending apology and fear at a rebuff. On second thought, that seemed silly. She was only dealing with words on a computer screen.

  Pookie: hi kayisha

  To Emma, Pookie’s use of Emma’s full user name indicated she was annoyed at yesterday’s sudden departure. Emma bit on her lip as she typed.

  Kayisha: Hi Pookie. I’m sorry for just disappearing yesterday. My ISP booted me off and wouldn’t let me back in.

  There was a pause before words appeared on Emma’s screen.

  Pookie: thats ok, i figured something like that happened. so u have dial-up?

  Emma had no idea what Pookie was talking about.

  Kayisha: I don’t know.

  Pookie: do u connect 2 the server each time u want 2 go online?

  Kayisha: Yes.

  Pookie: then u have dial-up. i switched 2 broadband last year

  Kayisha: This broadband, it’s good?

  Pookie: i reckon it beats dial-up hands down. now i stay connected 24/7. costs more but saves getting booted each time traffic gets busy

  Kayisha: Do you think that’s what happened?

  Pookie: probably. the time u left all the kids would b home from school and online. ur ISP will have kicked u out when their lines got busy. first in, first out

  Shygirl: hi kayisha. hi pook

  Emma had almost forgotten she was in a public space until the appearance of Shygirl. Strangely enough, her appearance was irksome, but Pookie had already given her greeting so Emma added her own, following Pookie’s lead in abbreviations.

  Kayisha: Hi Shy.

  Shygirl: every1 having a good nite?

  Pookie: its day over here shy

  Shygirl: how bout u k? wot time in ur parts?

  Kayisha: Around 3 p.m.

  Shygirl: 11 here. fri nite

  Emma did a quick mental tour of the globe and figured Shygirl must be somewhere in the United States.

  Kayisha: US?

  Shygirl: texas honey

  Emma raised her eyebrows at the endearment. She decided to throw it back.

  Kayisha: Is Honey a town in Texas?

  Pookie:

  Emma’s heart did a little flop at Pookie’s virtual smile.

  Shygirl: no honey. i meant u

  Was the not-so-shy Shygirl flirting with her? It seemed a ridiculously pointless thing to do, given that they were on opposite sides of the planet. Emma sat with fingers poised over the keyboard, unsure how to reply. No further witticisms were forthcoming. Maybe she should just tell Shygirl thanks, but no thanks? A private room window appeared and with it a string of text from Pookie.

  Pookie: she tries it on with every1 kay. dont worry about it

  Kayisha: I’m not worried. Just a bit surprised. She doesn’t know me from Adam.

  Pookie: doesnt matter. 15 mins in here can b a meaningful relationship

  Kayisha: I don’t get it.

  Pookie: different reality. am going to go. will be in the fijian room if u want 2 keep talking

  Emma kept looking at the private room window Pookie had taken her into, but no more text appeared. She shut it down, returning to the Secret Garden.

  Pookie: off now guys. speak later

  Shygirl: later pook

  Kayisha: Bye, Pookie.

  Pookie disappeared from the room occupant list. Emma didn’t know what to do next. Pookie had obviously extended the invitation to continue chatting in the Fijian room, but she couldn’t just leave Shygirl in the Secret Garden all by herself. Could she?

  Why the hell not? After all, as Pookie said, it was a different reality in here.

  Kayisha: I think I may get going too, Shy. Nice speaking to you.

  Shygirl: u 2 honey. bye

  Luckily, the Fijian room was empty when Toni arrived. She sat in the room, but after more than a minute of nothing began feeling quite the idiot. Kayisha wasn’t going to come. She’d no doubt been freaked out by the forwardness of Toni’s invitation and had run away. Or maybe she had just been disconnected again. Toni scratched absently at her forearm as she continued to wait. She’d just realized what she was doing and clasped her hands in her lap when her screen sprang into life.

  Kayisha: Hi again.

  Pookie: its quieter in here. that ok?

  Kayisha: Fine with me.

  Pookie: hows ur day been kay?

  Kayisha: Long, but good.

  Pookie: how come?

  Kayisha: I had one of those nights where I couldn’t sleep so I was up rather early and have got a lot of things done. How about
you?

  Toni wanted to ask why Kayisha couldn’t sleep, but the question overstepped the unspoken boundaries set the previous day.

  Pookie: been busy 2. working on sort of n extension 2 my house

  Kayisha: The joy of renovations. I don’t envy you.

  Pookie: havent started yet. just in the planning stage

  Kayisha: So the tears and tantrums are yet to come.

  Pookie: lol yes

  Kayisha: What sort of extension?

  Pookie: a cat run

  Kayisha: Good for you! How many cats?

  Pookie: just 1

  Kayisha: I’ve one and one. Cat and dog.

  Pookie: do u curfew?

  Kayisha: Cat is indoors all the time. Was brought up that way.

  Pookie: so dog stays outside?

  Kayisha: No. Got a doggie door.

  Toni frowned. That didn’t make sense. The cat must be pretty dumb not to have figured it could use the dog door. But then, maybe the cat and dog were restricted to different parts of the house.

  Pookie: how does that work with the cat?

  Kayisha: It’s a special door that works electronically with the dog collar. It lets her in and out but nothing else. It self-locks.

  That was a clever idea. For all her love of gadgetry, Toni had never heard of such a thing.

  Pookie: great idea. doesnt solve my problem tho

  Kayisha: You could just keep your cat indoors like I do.

  Pookie: not if i want any peace. or a couch that isnt shredded