Dream Walker

by Shannan Sinclair

  There were no men in her life who would have ever touched her chin in such a way or have said such a thing. Aislen never had any boyfriends and her mom had only a very few dinner dates in all these years. They had no close, living relatives. And her father had never been in the picture.

  Well, he had been...once. Just one day. Aislen could barely remember it. She had only been three or four. But the memory pressed itself into her head now as if an invisible hand was forcing it inside.

  The memory of a small apartment, the doorbell ringing and her mom opening the door. When her mom saw who it was, she shut the door and spoke to the visitor through a narrow gap in a low voice. The person on the other side of the door spoke back, again in a low voice that Aislen could not hear. The exchange continued back and forth, the hushed, urgent tones took on a staccato rhythm.

  Aislen could tell her mother was not happy. Her voice had the same cadence and insistence that Aislen heard when her mother told her to clean her room, or to stop fussing in the car.

  Aislen heard a “no”, a “stop”, and a “don’t.” She moved closer to her mother, mostly to reassure her small self that everything was all right. She heard her mother tell the person that she wanted him to leave. A man’s voice on the other side of the door asked something with an attitude as firm as her mother. Mother kept saying “no”—a lot—and got angrier.

  “You can’t just walk out of our lives...out of her life...then just pop back out of the blue. Especially now. Aislen is old enough to know things—to remember things. This will confuse her.”

  “So you did name her Aislen after all?” The man did not say her name the way Mom said it. Mom said it “Aaaazlyn.” The man on the other side of the door said “Ashlyn.”

  Her mother went silent. A wisp of a breeze slipped through the crack, past her mom, and swirled around Aislen. It carried the scent of wood and dirt and leaves, of something unknown and known at the same time. Aislen tiptoed a little closer.

  “Sabine,” the man’s voice said, softer this time. “May I please see Aislen?”

  When she heard her name again, said with its foreign lilt, Aislen felt the absolute need to check out the stranger on the other side of the door. She came up behind her mother’s legs and tried to peek between them. Her mom reached around and placed her hand on Aislen’s head trying to push her back, but that only upset her; being stopped from doing something only made her more obstinate about having to do it. Aislen ducked from under her mother’s palm and went around her knees instead and pulled open the door.

  The man looked down in surprise. He looked back at her mother, a plea in his eyes, then without waiting for her approval he squatted down so he was face to face with Aislen.

  Aislen didn’t take too well to strangers. Attention from anyone except her mother usually instigated an awkward game of peek-a-boo that ended up with Aislen either bursting into tears or running off to hide in another room. But she didn’t feel the need to hide herself from this man.

  The hair on his head reminded her of the sand at the beach that she so loved playing in. He had a soft smile with lines at the corners that made it seem like he smiled all the time. He had lines like that around his eyes, too, and she recognized those eyes. They were exactly like the eyes she saw in her mirror when she looked at herself, grass green with a gold ring dancing within them.

  “Hello, Aislen,” the man finally said. “My name is Preston.”

  “How do you do,” Aislen stuck her tiny hand out for him to shake. “I’m Tweedle Dee.” It was a gesture she had seen in her favorite Disney movie, “Alice in Wonderland,” the one she watched over and over and over again even though her mom wished she would watch “Something Else For A Change.”

  This made the man laugh. He reached out his hand, taking hers in his and shaking it gently. But he didn’t let it go and Aislen didn’t pull away. The man named Preston looked down at her small, pudgy hand and smoothed his thumb softly across the top of it.

  When he looked into her eyes, his were as shiny as glass and he looked at her for a very long while without saying anything. Then he smiled, reached his pointer finger up and pressed it in the center of her chin.

  “I love your little butt-chin, Buttercup.” Then he leaned in, kissed her on the cheek and whispered into her tiny ear, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  Aislen snapped out of the reverie, thrown back from the mirror as if it had electrocuted her. Profound sorrow ripped through her, clutching at her throat and choking off her breath.

  It was him! It was the voice of her father she was hearing—the same voice she had heard when she was lost in her dream. It was his words, transported from a forgotten moment—their only moment—so long ago.

  Why in the hell would she have dreamed his voice? What was going on that she would pull up such a well-buried memory? And why was it filling her with this sadness, rather than the anger, resentment or apathy she had nurtured for all these years? He had abandoned her, for Christ sake—abandoned them!

  Yet the memory was back with full clarity, as if it had just happened yesterday; and the look in his eyes, the total love that she saw in them, was imprinted afresh in her psyche.

  She looked back up at herself in the mirror. The condensation that had veiled her image was clearing away as quickly as it appeared. The mirror percussed again loudly and the ghostly grasp released her.

  So completely freaked out that she couldn’t stand it any longer, Aislen grabbed her backpack, ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door—away from everything that was haunting her.

  CHAPTER 4

  Raze arrived at Headquarters in Palo Alto twenty minutes early for his meeting with the Infiniti 8. The 8 had pre-arranged this appointment back when they first approved the Parrish Project and assigned Raze to implement and complete it.

  The headquarters of Infinium Incorporated was as sterile on the inside as it was on the outside, purposefully designed to look as generic as possible. With all its bland glory, it should have stuck out like a sore thumb, but despite the looming size of Infinium’s headquarters, it managed to hide in plain sight among the more aesthetically pleasing Fortune 500 buildings around it. This suited II’s needs perfectly.

  The austerity of the interior made a different impression than its external facade. When one entered the building with its clean lines and functional surfaces in white and stainless steel, one walked into a clear space. The internal arena of Infinium represented the Zen mind: a blank slate, a mind without identity or belief, virgin and open to every possibility. It was the perfect environment to accomplish the company’s mission.

  He walked down several long corridors, made a few turns, descended a flight of stairs, made a few more turns, and went down several more flights of stairs deep into the inner hub. It had taken him almost a year to maneuver through the intricate labyrinth of the building without getting lost.

  Raze had been employed by Quantum Gaming Systems, a subsidiary of Infinium Incorporated, for almost 2 years before he’d been invited into these hallowed halls. He was a 20-year-old kid, who after years of being told he was a loser by pretty much everyone, was still in awe that he ever landed a job. He didn’t know at the time that II was going to offer him a very serious promotion and that life, or rather, reality, was never going to be the same for him.

  It all began with a letter. Just before he turned 18, he received an invitation in the mail—snail mail—not just his email spam box.

  Dear Raziel Tanis,

  We have been watching you play AnnihilNation on the Now and via match replay videos on YouTube for quite a while now. Your skill and strategy is impressive. We would like to extend this personal invitation to attend Quantum Gaming Systems National Gaming Championships. It will be held in San Francisco next month. If you accept this opportunity, we would also like to meet with you in person to discuss other opportunities. Please contact our offices and we will make all the arrangements. Please do not let expenses dissuade you from contacting
us. Food, lodging, transportation and entertainment will be paid for by QGS. We hope to hear from you soon.

  Sincerely,

  Grant Parker

  The director of QGS himself signed it, in ink. Raze could feel the indentation where his pen pressed into the paper. It seemed too good to be true, but Raze picked up the phone and dialed the number listed on the letterhead.

  “Quantum Gaming Systems, Grant Parker’s office, can I help you?” a sexy sounding receptionist greeated hi.

  “Uh...yeah...I think so,” Raze was a little taken aback that the number actually worked. “My name is Raze Tanis,” he said, more as a question, than a statement.

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Tanis. We have been expecting your call. Are you calling to reserve your space at the championships?”

  “Uh...yeah...I think so,” he answered again. You gotta be kidding me? This is for real?

  “Very good. Mr. Parker will be pleased to hear that. Let’s get some information from you so I can make the arrangements.”

  And, no shit, just like that, he was heading out to Cali. Raze emptied his bank account, packed some clothes and his tournament game controllers, told his family to go fuck themselves, and flew halfway across the country to play video games.

  Directly after Raze had won his first National Championship, Grant Parker sent Raze an invitation to dinner in the form of a suit and tie, with a note reading, “The driver will arrive at 8.”

  The suit was a perfect fit, and the limousine was waiting when Raze came down from his room. The driver opened the door for him and then drove him to the crest of Nob Hill, right to the front door of the InterContinental Mark Hopkins. Raze was directed to the 19th floor, the Top of the Mark, to a table by a window from which, he swore to God, he could see the whole world. He sat there, awestruck, watching the sun lower over the Golden Gate and the lights across the skyline flicker like candles.

  The waiter brought over a bottle of Dom Perignon in an iced bucket just as Grant Parker arrived. He sat down at the table with him and got right down to business.

  “We know you’ve been approached by several companies this weekend and have received some compelling sponsorship offers,” Grant began.

  He was right. Just the night before, at a wild party that included mixed drinks and strippers, Red Bull had offered Raze a sponsorship worth $250,000 over the course of three years, just to keep playing AnnihilNation as a representative of their product.

  “I, personally, have been watching you for several months,” Grant continued, “and while you are a truly gifted player, I think you have more to offer. Quite frankly, I can tell you’re bored. This game is beneath you. Any schmuck can play a game.” Grant paused while the waiter poured each of them a glass of the champagne. “We would like to offer you an opportunity very, very few will ever get.”

  Grant outlined his proposal. “We would like to offer you a position at QGS in a research and development capacity. We have been developing a completely new system that will blow our competition out of the water. It just may blow everybody’s mind as well,” Grant chuckled. “In R&D you would be a Beta Player. You test drive the new product, help us work out any bugs, and assist in taking our system to the next level.”

  “That sounds pretty sweet,” said Raze. “But how is a job better then sitting around playing The Q all day?”

  “Appropriate question. Well...we would start you off at $100,000 a year.”

  Raze was listening. That was already $50,000 better than the sponsorship deal. And he didn’t want to give it away, but Grant was right, if he had to play AnnihilNation even one more time he would die of a boregasm.

  Grant wasn’t finished. “All members of our R&D team are provided an apartment in our own complex near the facility—a furnished apartment with a living room equipped with our state-of-the-art entertainment and gaming station. It won’t be the model you are testing, that’s under extremely tight security, but it is the top of the line. You will have a Platinum NOW Network account with free, unlimited access to every game known to The Q, including our P0rnStarz series.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. The complex has a swimming pool, an on-site gym, daily maid service, and access to the company gourmet dining room. Once you pass your probationary period and we are happy with your work, there are several additional perks that could be made available.”

  Raze blinked a few times.

  “For instance, we have company sports cars that would be at your disposal, so you can explore the area in your off-duty time. And if that doesn’t whet your appetite, we have a concierge that can arrange everything from grocery shopping to a personal chef, from a personal masseuse to a call girl to take care of all your other physical necessities.”

  Raze’s mouth dropped open. He was completely speechless and may have even jizzed in his pants just a little.

  “So,” Grant cocked his head to the side and smiled at Raze, “I take it from your mouth hanging open and the silence it is emitting, that would be a yes?” Grant raised his glass of champagne to Raze.

  Hell yes, it was a yes. They toasted to the agreement, with the world literally at Raze’s feet.

  He moved into the apartment directly from the hotel and, after signing a four-foot stack of contracts and non-disclosure agreements, began work within the week. Work consisted of testing the company’s new gaming system and playing all the new games that were in development. The system employed virtual reality technology, using a full-screen visor, a game controller that was integrated into a pair of gloves and other attaching accessories. When playing a fantasy game, there was a shield and a sword that worked in sync with the gloves. If it was a combat simulator, an automatic weapon or handgun controller could be used. The use of real tools and being visually immersed in the game through the visor interface definitely enhanced the experience.

  Raze whizzed through every game they had developed. He found their plot holes and operational glitches. He offered suggestions for improvement about everything from scenarios and characters to tools and objectives. After a few months of this, Grant called him into his office.

  “We would like to offer you a promotion.”

  “So soon?” Raze was a little dumbfounded. He knew he was good, but really?

  “It was what we were hoping for all along. We saw something special in you, and these past months have been...well, consider it a test. Not only were you playing our games, but also our games were analyzing you. How your mind works and what other potential you may have. You have demonstrated some unique abilities and we would like to continue to develop these abilities in a completely new arena. It is an extremely challenging program—few make it through it. But it comes with a significant pay and benefit increase. If you agree, you must complete a rigorous training program and sign an exclusive lifetime contract with us.”

  Raze didn’t even care about the money. He was already making more than he knew what to do with at 18. And he didn’t care about the extra-curricular benefits too much either. No, Raze was intrigued that there was something even more challenging that he could do.

  “Absolutely. Absolutely I’ll do it,” he agreed, although he had no idea what “it” was, or how radically his life would change. And boy, how had life changed. Once he became privy to the truth, there was no turning back.

  Raze laughed now as made his way into the antechamber and sat down in one of the armchairs. This was a completely different reality: the real, real world. And he hoped that after today’s debacle he could maintain what he’d worked so hard for and retain his right to stay here. He would need to convince the Infiniti 8 that what had happened today in Demesne could not have been foreseen, that the project was not a failure, and that he was still the operative who could see the project through to completion.

  The massive steel doors to the boardroom silently slid open and Grant Parker appeared.

  “The 8 will see you now,” he said, as he gestured Raze into the Inner Sanctum.

  Raze followed
Grant through the entry, a little surprised it was he escorting Raze into this meeting. Although Grant had been the one assigned to recruit Raze into this business, “The Opportunity” as Grant had called it, his mentorship had only lasted so long.

  They walked down the corridor toward another set of steel doors.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Raze said, stating the obvious to break the silence.

  “I was giving The 8 a briefing on a possible new recruit I have my eyes on,” Grant replied. “An amazingly gifted young man. He may even surpass your skills, Raziel.”

  “Doubtful. But that would be refreshing. It is a little draining doing all the heavy lifting around here by myself.”

  “You say that now, Raze, but when one comes along that outshines your star, you may change your tune.”

  “Are you speaking for yourself?”

  Grant stopped and turned to him. “No. I am not. I did my time, Raze. You may remember...I helped pioneer this field.”

  Raze was unimpressed. In the pioneering days of this business, Grant had made it as high as Level V operative, a major feat back then. But he became more and more obsolete as the skill sets required to do the job became more challenging. The Infiniti 8 rewarded Grant for his service and loyalty by making him CEO of Quantum Gaming Systems, the prime recruiting tool for Infinium’s main mission; but he was no longer viable as an operative.

  Especially now that they had someone like Raze.

  “Have you ever considered that maybe I didn’t go further because I didn’t want to go any further?” Grant asked.

  “No. I haven’t. And I don’t. You didn’t progress, because you couldn’t.”

  “Well, contrary to your belief, Raziel, I made a choice. I didn’t want to sell my soul. You didn’t have any problems with that, because you never had one.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Grant,” Raze scoffed. “You may not actually do any of the real dirty work, but your soul is sold just the same. Only passively—because you’re a coward.”