by Matt Moss
I jump in my truck and toss the NueView in the passenger seat beside me. Pull out of the parking lot and make my way back across town, all the while trying to ignore the ache in my head.
8
Coping With Emotions
After leaving the cleaners, it just so happens that the next group therapy meeting is in thirty minutes. Perfect timing because I could really benefit from being there today.
Listen to yourself. Before you know it, you’ll have a man-bun and start vaping. Burn your underwear and start a campaign called ‘Free the Balls’.
There’s nothing wrong with getting things off your chest and finding comfort in others that are going through the same thing.
That’s where you’re wrong. Nobody is going through what you’re going through.
True.
But everybody’s in this same hell. Just on different levels, and dealing with different devils.
I’m the first one in the room.
“Ah, Steve. Welcome,” the original group leader, Paxton, tells me. “You’re usually one of the last ones in. Everything alright?”
I cock my head at him and go to speak but am interrupted by the arrival of a few others, Margarette being one of them. She immediately goes to Paxton and starts talking about her morning.
I’m thankful to have the focus taken off of me.
More people come in and take their seats. Most avoid eye contact with me, but I can see a few of them glance my way, if only for a moment. They’re still on edge about me. I suppose I would be too if someone said they had killed a few folks.
V is the last one through the door and takes the seat next to me.
“Fucking subway,” she vents. Lights up a cigarette and speaks to me like I care. “You know, I used to like that place. The whole being underground thing, everyone keeping to themselves. It used to be cool. Now, it’s overrun by inconsiderate assholes, oh, and kids who are trying to get the next viral video. How the hell do they pay for their tickets anyway? I think they’re sneaking on board. Fucking kids…”
“V, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, there’s no…”
She holds her hand up. “Smoking. Got it,” she says, then takes a quick drag and puts the smoke out on the floor.
Paxton shakes his head. Everyone else condones her actions as well.
V stares at each of them and holds her arms out. “What?” She scoffs and searches through her purse, pulling out a stick of gum and dropping her bag to the floor.
“Do you have kids?” she asks.
“Two.”
“You poor bastard. I feel sorry for you. Kids are the worst. I’ll die before I have them.”
I bite my tongue.
No. After her calling me out last time and now this; I’ve had about enough of V.
I turn to her. “I feel sorry for you. Sorry that you’ll never know the joy of children because you’re a selfish bitch who only thinks about herself. Somewhere along the way, you failed to realize that, at its very design, the purpose of life is to reproduce. You squander it away and think you’re doing the planet and yourself a favor by not adding to the population. Save me your self-righteous bullshit.”
She gawks at me for a moment, wordless, then picks up her bag. Her face is pained like I’ve never seen on her before, and her eyes begin to water. Before she breaks down in front of everyone, she storms out of the room and leaves.
Everyone in the room heard me lash out at her and is giving me condescending looks.
“You know, you’re a real asshole,” one guy, Bob, says.
Margarette chimes in. “How could you speak to someone like that? With such carelessness?”
I throw my arms out. “She started the whole thing. I wasn’t about to sit here and have someone ridicule me for making the choice to have kids, like it was a mistake and I’m somehow lesser than them. Not to mention her smoking in here, which is a clear sign that she doesn’t care about anyone else.”
“She can’t have kids, you fucking asshole!” Margarette reveals to me. “That’s why she’s here. She wanted to have children more than anything. But when the doctors told her she was barren, she resorted to VR. There she could have children and live the life she always wanted.”
Paxton chimes in. “But because of her addiction, she lost her husband, her job, everything. That’s why she’s here.”
“Think about how someone else’s life could be more fucked up than yours before you open your mouth in judgement next time, prick,” Margarette chides me.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Paxton tells the group.
I look down in shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
If you had known, would it have made a difference? Would you have still said the same words?
I don’t know.
“We’re all here for answers,” Paxton says. “And together, we find them. Everyday, they come to us more and more and, in that, we find healing. Let us put the negativity in the room away and begin.”
Before they get started, I get up and leave the room. Running down the hall, I search for V to apologize.
I find her outside the building, leaned up against the wall and smoking a cigarette. She quickly turns and wipes her face when she sees me, tosses her smoke and begins to walk away.
“Wait,” I tell her. “Let me talk.”
She turns around, hurt. “Haven’t you said enough? Just leave me alone.”
I hold my hands out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“What? That I couldn’t have kids? Congratulations, now you do.” She turns to leave.
I run in front of her. “Please. Let me at least buy you a cup of coffee to make up for my stupid mouth.”
She narrows her gaze at me. “Why?”
“Because I know what it’s like to lose a child.” My eyes begin to water just thinking about Ben in the hospital. “So maybe we can find some relief in kinder words and a cup of joe?”
She looks down the street as she thinks about it. “Alright. There’s a shop two blocks over. You want to walk or grab a ride?” she asks.
I wouldn’t have thought otherwise. But I realize that most people call for the automated taxis nowadays, even if it is only a couple blocks away.
“I like walking.”
I come clean to her about Ben and his condition. “It’s like having a piece of your heart ripped out, and you don’t see reality the same way anymore. Nothing makes sense.”
She takes in my words, then tells me about her children, Erica, Meredith, and Henry, that are in virtual reality.
“They want me to come back. Ask me why I don’t spend time with them anymore. It rips me apart every time I see them because I can’t be the mother that they need. I know it’s not good for me to be with them there.”
I take in her words and then go on about how my addiction to VR led to cocaine use.
“It was to keep me awake. So I could spend more time in the virtual world and not have to disconnect. And trust me, when I came off the drug, it was a bitch. But nothing compares to coming off VR. Nothing hurts worse than that. Nothing feels more empty or hollow.” Aside from losing a kid.
She understands and agrees with me.
I continue. “I’ve been without it for the better part of a year now. Until today…”
Her eyes go wide. “You logged in today? Are you serious?”
“Yes.” I take a drink of coffee, still buzzing from the feeling of VR.
She shakes her head incredulously. “You mother fucker. Do you know how long it’s been for me?”
I shake my head, not wanting to guess because I don’t want to know the answer. Whatever she says is what it’ll likely be for me one day.
“Two years now.” She taps a finger to her head, hard. “Two fucking years without seeing my kids.” She flops back and sighs, looking out the window. “And you know what? It never gets easier.”
Those are the exact words I didn’t want to hear.
Like a prison, those words wr
ap around me and I realize that I’m forever bound to this fate of my choosing. Without VR in my life, there will always be a hole.
No. I will beat this. I’m not going to let it win.
“Have you ever tried to reprogram your brain?”
She lights up a cigarette. “What are you talking about? Mantras and shit like that?”
“Yeah. Meditation, memorization, therapy. Hell, I don’t know. It was just a thought I had.”
She puffs and her eyes go distant. “That would be something now wouldn’t it? A Utopian mindset to counter the Utopia.” Shakes her head and puts the cigarette out. “Life’s a fucking trip, man.”
I think back on the last year and everything that happened. How my life has changed.
“Yes, it is.”
“What’s it feel like, logging back into VR after being without it for so long?” she asks.
I meet her eye. “I’m not going to lie, it’s pretty incredible. But my head has been hurting ever since, and I know that it’s not good for me.”
She grins, recalling what the feeling of immersion is like. “Sometimes, doing what’s bad for you isn’t so bad after all.”
I smile, thinking about my purpose in Alterlife. “Sometimes.”
She gets ready to leave. “Thank you for the coffee and the conversation.”
I shake her hand. “It was my pleasure. Nice to know you better, V.”
“You as well.” She grabs her purse and stands up straight. “You know, you’re not such an asshole.”
“That’s the best compliment I’ve heard in awhile,” I reply.
She smiles then sees herself out, leaving me standing at the table.
I pay for our coffee and leave a hundred dollar tip.
Back at home, I give Jenny a kiss and hold her in my arms. Carla runs over, happy to see me. I pick her up and swing her around.
“It feels so good to be home. I love you both so much.”
“I love you too, daddy!”
I give Jenny a look that says we need to talk. She grins in reply, but I can tell that she would rather not. She hates Alterlife.
“Run along and let your father and I talk, now,” Jenny tells Carla.
“Okay, mommy.”
She’s off like a shot, and Jenny speaks. “So, how’d it go?”
I exhale in exhaustion. “Let’s grab a drink and sit at the table.”
She follows me into the kitchen and doesn’t say a word, as if she’s afraid to know anything about my experience back.
Can I blame her? Look where it got us.
I crack open a couple beers, set one down on the table in front of Jenny, and take a seat. I stare into her eyes as we both take a drink, each of us taking a moment to relax before talking about the day.
“I didn’t stay in Alterlife for long. I couldn’t. It gave me a headache.”
“Because you haven’t been online in so long?”
“Yeah. But I did meet Giovisi, or Giology, in the game; the man Deakins wanted me to get in touch with.”
She rests her head in her hand. “What’s he like? Is he trustworthy?”
Maybe.
“I don’t know. He’s… odd. Very meticulous in everything he does, extremely professional.”
“People like that can either be really great or they can be their own worst enemy.”
“True. But he seems to know a lot about Alterlife and has built an empire in a short amount of time. Not to mention he’s leveled up faster than anyone I’ve ever heard of.”
“Other than you, that is,” she notes and takes a drink. “So, maybe he has an Amulet, like you?”
Huh, I never even thought about that. Maybe he does have something that increases his experience points at a faster rate. That would explain how he became a Grandmaster Mage and Tamer in under a year.
“You could be right, babe. Maybe. All I know is that he seems to be a very private man and probably has a lot of secrets.”
“You just met him. Nobody opens up on a first date,” she notes.
I grin and take a drink.
“You trust him then?” she asks.
I don’t know. The way he acts, and the strange rooms at the cleaners, makes me question his integrity. But Jenny doesn’t need to know about that right now.
It’s nothing that you can’t handle, John.
I shrug. “I suppose. But, like you said, I just met the guy. How much am I supposed to?”
She raises an eyebrow. “You always said you were a quick judge of character, only needing a few minutes upon meeting someone to sum them up.”
“And you always said to not judge a book by its cover and to give people a chance.”
“Touché.” She clicks her beer bottle against mine and we take a drink. “Look, John, going on how adamant you are, I know you have to do this. And after what I saw of the virus here in the real world, I know that you are the only one who can stop it. The attempt on our family proves that as well, leading me to believe that the Gamemasters, or whoever they are, see you as a threat. If aligning yourself with Giology and his guild gives you a better chance of destroying the virus, then do it.”
She’s right, I need the Saviors.
I have no friends left, except for the few who may or may not take me back. Thal’s Amulet—the only thing that has saved my ass throughout the game—is broken. And I don’t know if I have what it takes to kill the gods on my own.
No, I know that I don’t.
I stare at her in wonder, and can’t believe that she puts so much faith in me.
“I love you, Jenny.” I grab hold of her hand.
“I love you, too, John.” She leans in and kisses me.
I pull back, slowly shake my head, grit my teeth, then speak. “I promise that what happened to us before will never happen again. I won’t let it. I swear.”
She looks away and the emotion that almost slips from her face is quickly checked. “I know it won’t. We’re safe here. Just make sure you keep it that way and don’t go telling everyone, okay?”
I lean in and kiss her again. “I won’t. I promise.”
If anyone’s going to die, it’s going to be me.
And I’m not about to let that happen.
9
Trip to Atlantis
I don’t journal anymore because I don’t have anything to say.
Physically, it makes me sick to think about putting my thoughts to paper these days. Most of the time, I try not to think about my situation and how my family has paid the price for my choices.
It hurts too much.
So I keep it pushed to the back of my brain and try to forget about it, all the while knowing that our situation is still very real and very alive. Time heals all things, people like to say.
I’m not sure there’s enough time in eternity to wash away what I’ve done.
And yet, I’m still logging back in, committing myself to the same thing that threatens to destroy me and everything I love.
There isn’t a choice in this. You have to play the game. You must destroy the gods before the virus plagues mankind.
Do I?
What if this is all part of some made up dream, or some figment of my imagination?
The virus has already made an impression on the real world. Does the news lie?
Do I really need to answer that?
But that’s a good point. The rock hard evidence is hard to deny.
The virus is real. And it must be stopped.
Yeah. I know.
But what if it can’t be stopped? What if every path I take is a dead end and I’m just jumping through hoops? This whole thing could just be spinning around and around.
I wait for Deakins to chime in and offer me some peace of mind, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t talked to me since the last time he instructed me to see Gio.
I look at the picture of my family that hangs from the rear view.
It’s always been about them. Everything I’ve done in Alterlife was for them.
Right.
And none of that was for you?
They are the reason I do what I do.
I take the keys from the ignition, grab my duffle bag, and walk into the cleaners.
The asian woman walks me to the back, and it doesn’t slip my mind that we’ve yet to be introduced. I don’t even know her name. ‘Crazy shotgun bitch’ is what I’ve been calling her in my mind.
I meet Giovisi standing in front of my room.
He takes off a pair of purple latex gloves and hands them to the woman.
“How do you feel today? Better?” he asks.
I nod. “I think so.”
He pulls a set of keys from his pocket. “Good. It’s going to be a big day. The guild is anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
“You told them I was coming?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” He unlocks the doors to both rooms and presses mine open, allowing me to enter.
“I thought we were keeping it a secret until you announced me.”
“To the rest of the world, yes. But in Thannadas—among the Saviors—there are no secrets.”
I walk into the room and my eyes instantly go to the window-wall as I place my bag down near the chair.
“I’ll see you in a couple minutes,” he says and eases the door shut.
“Wait. You got a bathroom around here?” I ask.
“Of course.” He nods to the woman to show me the way.
We hang a right outside of my room and go behind the wall with all the shelves and stainless steel counters, along a small hall in the back that runs parallel to the cleaning room. We pass a padlocked door, and I wonder what Gio’s keeping in there.
“Is this it?” I ask jokingly, referring to the room in hopes that she’ll let something slip. She stops, looks at the door, then looks at me but doesn’t say anything. I continue. “You know, because Giovisi is so clean he doesn’t want people using the bathroom?”
“No,” she replies with no hint of emotion, and continues to walk.
I know, it was a bad attempt at humor. But it wasn’t meant to be serious or funny; it was to gage her reaction. And the way she spoke the word ‘no’ along with her contemplative yet precautionary body language tells me that there’s something in that room that I’m not supposed to see; something I’m not supposed to know about.
