by Jason Segel
“How did you know it was me?” I butt in.
“Are you kidding? You gave your avatar the same nose. And the girl you were with called you Simon.”
“It was Kat.”
“Yeah, I figured that out. After the collapse at the factory, I saw a way for us to help each other. You wanted to save Kat. I wanted Magna dead. All you had to do was kill him and take Kat through the exit in the cave. With her disk shut off, she’d be safe until her body could be rescued.”
It takes me a moment to place the name Magna. It belongs to the big red creature inside the glacier. “I don’t get it. Why did you want me to kill Magna?”
“He’s the one they call the Creator.”
I guess that clears a few things up, but I still don’t understand why Busara would want him dead. “Isn’t the Creator part of the game?”
“No,” she says. “Magna is Milo Yolkin’s avatar.”
I suddenly feel unbelievably stupid. I should have made that connection a long time ago, but I was only thinking about saving Kat. Then something else hits me. “You lied to me,” I say to Busara. “You told me the Creator was part of the game.”
Busara swallows nervously. She must feel me seething. “At this point he is. Milo spends almost all his time in Otherworld. He hardly takes his disk off. He’s addicted to the game. He just sits in that cave trying to figure out how to fix his creation. Killing his avatar is the only way to put a stop to the project.”
“But if he’s wearing a disk, killing his avatar would…” I pause. Things are quickly adding up in my head, and the conclusion I’m coming to is batshit insane. “That’s why you sent me a disk. You want me to murder Milo Yolkin?”
“Yes,” she admits, though she doesn’t sound very proud of it.
“Because you think he killed your father.”
Busara shakes her head with frustration. I guess she doesn’t want her plan to be written off as revenge. “My father isn’t the only person Milo’s murdered. Think of all the people who’ve been forced to take part in the disk’s beta test. People like Kat and Carole and Gorog. Milo’s using them as human guinea pigs. I’m pretty sure most of the patients involved in the test don’t even have locked-in syndrome.”
“No shit. But do you have any proof?” I ask.
“According to my dad’s files, the disk puts people into a state that’s similar to sleep paralysis. Sleeping people don’t have conscious control of their bodies, but that doesn’t always keep them from moving or speaking. Remember the night you found me in Kat’s hospital room? I punctured Kat’s IV. When the fluid ran out, she started speaking, right? Well, people with real locked-in syndrome can’t speak. I think the Company is drugging them. There’s something mixed in with the patients’ IV fluids that keeps them paralyzed. I’m sure of it.”
I hold up a hand. “Stop right there for a second,” I say. We just took a detour into some very dark and disturbing territory. “You’re telling me you screwed with Kat’s IV at the hospital? On a hunch? What if you’d been wrong?”
Busara’s eyes go wide. I don’t think she realized how far she’d taken things. “But I wasn’t wrong,” she says.
“You could have been,” I say. “And now that I think about it, you knew from the start that the disk is able to kill its wearer. You even warned me that I might not get more than one life in Otherworld. And then you went ahead and let me use the disk anyway.”
“My father thought the disk might be dangerous,” Busara says. “But I swear, Simon. I didn’t know for sure until now.”
I’m starting to get seriously pissed. “So you let me be your guinea pig. You let me take all the risks while you never took a single one. What exactly makes you any better than Milo Yolkin?”
Her jaw drops. She clearly doesn’t have an answer ready. “I’m really sorry,” she finally says. And she looks sorry, too. But I’m sure she’d do it all over again. “I sent you the disk because I saw you in Otherworld and I was convinced you’d survive. And it was the only way to protect Kat. If I’d told you the truth, would it have stopped you from going in after her?”
“No,” I admit. And it still won’t. In fact, it just makes me more eager to get Kat the hell out of there. I pick my disk and visor up off the floor. “But you should have been honest with me. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to kill myself. I think it’s time for me to go back and finish my mission.”
“No! Don’t you see—you don’t have to,” Busara says. “That’s why I pulled you out of Otherworld. Carole died. That means we finally have proof that the disks are actually killing people. We can put the facility out of business and destroy the Company, too.”
She hands me a phone. On it is an article from the Morris NewsBee. There’s a picture of Carole. She looks a little plumper than she did in Otherworld, but otherwise she’s exactly the same. She could have been anyone back at setup, but she chose to be herself. I scan the words. It’s an obituary. Carole Elliot, forty-three. She succumbed to injuries sustained in an automobile accident. She’s survived by her four children and husband. Turns out Carole really was a soccer mom.
I hand the phone back to Busara. It takes a few seconds before I feel like I’m able to talk. “How is this proof?” I ask.
“You saw Carole die in Otherworld yesterday. The same day she died at the facility.”
“You’re not thinking straight. That doesn’t prove anything,” I say. “It would just be my word against the Company’s. Who do you think the cops are going to believe? Milo Yolkin—or some idiot kid with a criminal history?”
Busara goes quiet. “Okay, you’re right,” she says softly. “But I don’t want you to go back to Otherworld. I guess I wasn’t prepared to be right about this. But it’s gotten too real, Simon. Carole died. You could die too.”
“I don’t have a choice. I have to go back. Kat is still there. Gorog is too. I’m not leaving again until both of them are free. If that means killing Milo Yolkin, that’s okay with me.”
“What if you die fighting Magna?” Busara asks. “What’s going to happen to everyone else in the beta test?”
Honestly, it never occurred to me. There aren’t just two lives depending on me. Everyone in the facility is my responsibility. My life couldn’t possibly suck any harder than it does right now.
“Fine,” I huff. “Kat might have information that could help you stop the Company if something happens to us. She saw what happened at Elmer’s. I’ll pass the information along to you after I find her and talk to her. If we die, you’ll need to find a way to use it.”
“I don’t understand,” Busara says. “What kind of information could Kat have?”
“The night of the collapse, I was at the factory. I saw someone throw an object through a hole in the third floor. When it landed on the second floor, all the kids gathered around. That’s what made the floor collapse. Maybe the boards were rotten—or maybe they’d been sabotaged. But someone knew that the floor couldn’t handle that much weight in one spot.”
“Wait—you said someone threw an object?” Busara asks. “What kind of object?”
“It was small and round. And when it landed, it was glowing. That’s all I know, but Kat saw it. She might even have seen the person who threw it. I’d bet you anything there’s a connection to the Company.”
“What did Marlow do when he saw the object?” Busara asks.
“Marlow?” I try to think back to the night in question. “He shouted something. I think he told everyone to stay away from it.”
I’m loving the look on Busara’s face right now. It’s nice to see I’ve surprised her for once. “You never mentioned any of this,” she says.
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you never told me, either,” I shoot back.
I bend my head forward and begin to position the disk at the base of my skull.
“Wait,” says Busara. “Give me one more hour. Please. There might be another way.”
The windows of Busara’s car are all down and I’m shivering
uncontrollably. But the chill is preferable to the smell wafting off me. I really should have used the Depends.
“That’s it,” Busara says, pointing through the windshield at a house on the side of a hill. It’s three stories high, and the front, which looks out over the forest, is almost entirely glass. I’ve been fascinated by the structure ever since I moved to New Jersey. As a kid, it always reminded me of a giant dollhouse. I could never understand why the owners would choose to put their lives on display.
“We’re going up there?” I ask. The driveway that leads to the house is completely exposed, and there are no other homes on the hill. “Everyone in town will be able to see us. Have you forgotten that I’m kind of on the run these days? Are you sure this is something we need to do?”
“Yeah, I’m—” Busara is cut off by a blaring emergency alert from her phone. It sounds like the end of the world. As the car swerves, I grab her phone and turn down the volume. There’s a message flashing on the screen.
“ ‘I’ve been expecting you. Don’t drive up to the house. Pull over as soon as you can. I will guide you from there,’ ” I read out loud. Then I look up in surprise. “What the hell is going on?”
“It’s from Marlow,” Busara says. “He must have geo-fenced the property line.”
“We’re going to see Marlow? Why?”
“Because I think I may have been wrong about him,” Busara tells me.
—
Busara pulls onto the shoulder of the road. Just as she shifts the car into park and turns off the engine, a small black drone appears at the driver’s-side window. It hovers there until we’ve gotten out of the car. Then it heads off through the woods. Busara goes after it without hesitation.
“You’re just going to follow a random drone into the forest?” I call out to her.
“You got any better ideas?” she shouts back.
I catch up with her and together we hike through the forest. The little black drone stays a few feet ahead of us at all times. As the slope of the hill gets steeper, I keep glancing over at Busara. Tiny beads of sweat are forming along her hairline. She does not look well.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Busara says in a voice that sounds determined—but not terribly convincing. She follows up with a weak smile. I think this may be her way of saying she’s sorry for not taking any risks in Otherworld.
“We can go back,” I assure her. I don’t know how much farther she can go. I have a hunch I’m going to end up carrying her out of here.
“We’re almost there,” she pants. “Look.”
I glance up and realize I can see part of the house through the trees. There’s an unobstructed view into the gym on the building’s ground floor, where Marlow is lifting weights in his underwear.
“He knew you were coming,” I say with a snicker. “Why isn’t he dressed? Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Yeah. There is. I don’t think that’s Marlow,” says Busara.
She must be feeling a little loopy. Because unless Marlow’s been cloned, that is definitely my little buddy working out inside the house.
“Now who’s the spy?” someone says behind us, and I nearly leap out of my skin.
“Marlow?” My eyes flick back and forth between the guy working out inside and the one standing here in the woods. This kid is dressed in mud-covered jeans and he looks like he’s been out here for a while.
“The one and only,” says Marlow, his voice quavering slightly.
“Oh my God,” Busara suddenly gasps. She’s ignoring the Marlow in front of us and watching indoor Marlow lift weights. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yep,” he replies. “They don’t know we have one. I turn it on when I need to escape. I’m pretty sure I’m under heavy surveillance.”
“It’s amazing,” Busara marvels. I still have no idea what it is—or how these two ended up sharing secrets.
“What in the hell are you both talking about?” I ask. “And if you’re the real Marlow, who’s the guy inside?”
“It’s not a guy, it’s a hologram,” Busara tells me.
“That’s not a hologram,” I argue. “And even if it is, how would you know?”
“It’s a Company product—the first three-D hologram projector that produces an opaque, lifelike image. Marlow’s mom invented it,” Busara says. “She and my dad used to work together in California. At the Company’s West Coast innovations lab.”
I’m pretty sure this is information I should have been given a long-ass time ago. I’m seriously annoyed. “What? So you guys knew each other in California? You’re friends?”
“Not exactly,” Marlow said. “I don’t think I’d spoken to Busara in years before she accused me of moving to Brockenhurst to spy on her.”
“Can you blame me?” Busara jumps in. “Was I supposed to think it was just a random coincidence that another Company kid shows up at my school on the other side of the country and starts pretending to be some kind of Goth stoner? I knew there was something weird about the whole thing. And I was right, wasn’t I? Why are you in Brockenhurst, Marlow?”
“Punishment,” he says.
The word stuns me for a moment. “Punishment? For what?” I ask.
Marlow looks over his shoulder at the house, where his hologram double is now doing a series of lunges and squats. “My mom built the projector to help people,” he said. “There are a lot of schools in poor countries that can’t afford to hire teachers. My mom thought the projector could be a solution to the problem. But when the guys who run the Company saw the projector, they had other plans. Turns out the device has some serious military applications. You throw a few into a battle zone and have them project three-D images of soldiers. Your enemy won’t know who’s real and who’s not.”
“But Milo doesn’t work with the military,” Busara argues. “It’s one of his rules.”
“I get the feeling Milo doesn’t care much about his rules anymore,” Marlow replies. “When my mother tried to tell him what was going on, she couldn’t even get a meeting to see him. So she decided to leak news of the military deal to the press. The Company found out before any harm was done. My mom could have gone to jail for the leak, so I took the blame. Pretended it was me trying to make a quick buck by selling the intel. A few days later, we find out my mom is being transferred to beautiful Brockenhurst, New Jersey, so she’ll be closer to the Company headquarters.”
“That was your punishment?” I ask.
“Yeah, we thought we were getting off easy. Then when we get here, they tell me I have to hang out with a certain group of kids at school.”
“Who told you? Do you remember their names?” Busara asks.
“Their names?” Marlow asks. “You think these guys and I sat down and discussed this shit over Frappuccinos? Someone called me on the phone and told me what to do. As far as I know, it was God himself.”
“What exactly did he tell you to do?” I ask.
“He told me to get to know Jackson, Brian, West and Kat.”
“He mentioned those names specifically?” I demand.
“Yep,” says Marlow.
“Why was the Company interested in them?” Busara asks.
“No clue,” Marlow replies. “I just did what they told me to do. Jackson, Brian and West weren’t the kind of people I’d usually spend time with, but they were a lot better than the kind of guys I would have met in prison.”
“And then?” I ask. “What were you supposed to do once you got to know Kat and her friends?”
“Nothing,” says Marlow. “I mean, there were always weird men watching us, but—”
“Weird men?” I ask.
“Yeah. They’d be in the parking lot before school or outside our houses at night. But I never talked to any of them. And I didn’t hear from the guy on the phone until the day before the party. He called and told me to suggest a party at the factory, so I did. I had no idea—”
“That’s it?
” I blurt out. “They didn’t ask you to do anything else?”
“No, I swear! I thought they were just going to spy on us. It wasn’t till I saw the projector fall through the ceiling and hit the floor that I knew some serious shit was about to go down. So I stayed with my back against the wall. I tried to keep Kat from going near it, but she jumped up and ran toward it like—”
“Like she knew what would happen and wanted to save everyone.” I finish the thought for him. I know exactly what Kat would have done. Her reaction tells me two things: Kat knew they were in danger. And she knew the Company had been watching her.
“Yeah,” says Marlow. “I thought they might have rigged the projector with some kind of explosive, but the floor collapsed instead. If I hadn’t grabbed on to a pipe when I heard the first rumble, I probably would have died too.”
“So you were the one who dialed 911?” I ask.
Marlow holds up his hands. The abrasions on his palms are still red and raw. “I couldn’t have wiped my own ass after the incident. How was I supposed to dial anyone? Whoever threw the projector must have called the ambulances.”
“But why?” I ask. “Why arrange something like that—and then make sure there were ambulances on the scene?”
“Maybe they didn’t want everyone to die,” Busara says. “Maybe they had plans for the survivors.”
Of course they did. At the facility.
“You have to come with us to the police,” I say to Marlow. “You have to tell them everything you just told us right now.”
“I can’t. I doubt I’d make it as far as the station.”
“What do you mean?” Busara asks.
“No one warned me about what was going to happen at the factory that night. They wanted me to die or end up in a coma along with the rest of them,” he says. “But I didn’t. And now I know too much. My mom, too.”
“You really think—” I start to say.
“Yeah. That’s why I left a present for you in your locker. When I’m gone, you should use it.”
