Z On Location

by J. J. Howard

  “Thanks, Mom.” I gave Nora a grateful smile, feeling guilty for not wanting her to have a CREW cap.

  A man came forward and shook our hands when we walked in. “Hello, and welcome!” His T-shirt said: Hi, I’m Josh. Ask me about S/A.

  We followed the very smiley and energetic Josh, who explained that he was the founder of S/A, from the lobby and into a room with the walls painted black. “This is one of our Virtual Reality Labs,” he explained. “We find that having as blank a space as possible helps people really become immersed in the VR tech. Would you like to try out one of the headsets?”

  “Absolutely!” Mom said. This was definitely her area. Mom was always talking about how VR was going to change the world someday.

  I was busy scoping out all the cool things in the room. The walls may have been blank, but there was plenty of other stuff to look at! I half listened as Josh talked.

  “Now, this tech is a prototype,” he said. “A lot of what I’ll show you today is—so no pictures, please. Our last stop will be our education gallery. We have some tech there that we use for larger groups. That’ll be your photo op, if you want to try to catch a funny shot.”

  I looked up from the visor I’d been inspecting. “I want a funny shot of my mom,” I told Josh with a grin.

  Mom’s face basically said, Absolutely not. I gave her an innocent look.

  “Ready to give it a try?” he asked. Mom grinned, and Josh helped her put a large black visor over her eyes. “You two will be able to see what Michelle is seeing up on this video monitor.” Josh pulled a remote out of his pocket and pushed a button. A huge flat screen embedded in one of the black walls was suddenly visible.

  Mom started walking forward, raising one hand in front of her, which looked pretty funny, since it was just a normal room. On the screen we saw a dense jungle, with plants everywhere. No wonder Mom was putting her hands up in front of her! She probably felt like she needed a giant machete to walk.

  A tiger appeared in the jungle. No big deal—to us—but Mom squealed in surprise. Nora caught my eye and grinned. I forgot for a second that I wasn’t a Nora fan and grinned back.

  Mom kept walking through the simulation. A parrot came and landed on her shoulder; a monkey blocked her path. Then the demonstration was over, and Josh helped her pull the visor from her head.

  “There,” she said. “I didn’t look that funny, did I?”

  “Nope, not at all,” I said in an exaggerated tone, and Mom and Nora both laughed.

  We followed Josh into the next room, which he called the workshop.

  “These are some of our most cutting-edge pieces of tech. We’re working on refining the interface experience so that it’s as seamless as possible.” He handed Mom what looked like two oversize black gloves. “These are next-generation touch controllers. They’re five times more reactive than the current industry standard, and they’re also wireless. Take a look at the monitor,” he told us. Mom had put the gloves on and was donning another visor. The screen showed what looked like a drone lying on a table, with a hatch open. Mom picked up one of the instruments that lay on the smaller table beside the drone, and when she tentatively poked with it, one of the drone’s propellers spun. Mom jumped.

  This was so cool! It definitely qualified as a #summeradventure. I snapped a few shots with my phone, showing how engaged everyone was. Nora and Josh were watching the screen intently. I also recorded a few seconds of Mom “operating” on the drone and sent it all to my friends.

  Becka texted right back:

  I shot back:

  The final stop was the education gallery, where Nora and I finally got to try out headsets of our own. It was our photo op moment, and I took a few selfies with the VR visor on. This was going to make a perfect #summeradventure post.

  We set up there for the interview with Josh. It was a pretty simple shoot with just one subject, and Mom was using only one camera. Nora was handling the mics and sound recording now, so I didn’t have much to do. I sat on the floor in the back of the room and started to compose my post for later. I’d use my selfies and the other pics I’d gotten from the education gallery photo op to fill it out, adding hashtags for #summeradventure and #virtualreality. This was going to be my first really excellent post of the road trip, and I was hoping for lots of reposts and likes. Maybe this post would be the one that would grab Winter Costello’s attention, and she’d give me a shout-out on one of her next vlogs.

  We packed up the set in record time and arranged a time with Josh to come the next day to see a group of students interacting with the different interfaces. As we walked out, Mom reminded me, “I’m having dinner with Meg tonight—remember her, Z? We used to work together. So you two are on your own. Nora, I’ve got some cash for you if you don’t mind taking Z out.”

  “Of course not. It’ll be fun!”

  It took maximum effort for me to avoid rolling my eyes. I pretended to be looking up at the clouds instead. “Sure, great,” I echoed.

  “I know the perfect place,” Nora told me. “I eat there every time I come to San Fran. And it’s just a couple of blocks away.”

  I followed Nora, whose idea of a couple was apparently eight, because that’s how many blocks it was.

  “What is this place?” I asked when we got there. The sign outside the restaurant had a bunch of dancing vegetables and said THE CHEERFUL ONION.

  “It’s amazing—and everything’s vegan!”

  Ugh. Not exactly my idea of amazing.

  Nora had already stepped inside The Cheerful Onion, so there didn’t seem to be a way out.

  The menu was decorated with a lot more dancing vegetables. “So what’s good here?” I asked, settling in to the booth, and then had to work really hard not to fall asleep while Nora droned on about the different types of tofu.

  I read through the menu, craving cheeseburgers and mac and cheese. But not with vegan cheese.

  “How long have you been a vegan?” I asked her.

  “Two years,” Nora answered. Then, luckily, her phone dinged, so I didn’t feel bad about checking my own.

  The first thing I checked was Winter Costello’s account. She’d posted several of her own #summeradventure things from the day, and even reposted some of her followers’ photos. I hoped that when she saw my post later tonight—after Mom’s signoff, of course—that she’d repost it … that would get a lot more likes.

  The food arrived pretty quickly. Nora attacked her Black Bean Celebration pizza, but I did more moving my food around my plate than actual eating. My Chickun Fiesta wrap had a weird consistency, sort of spongy and rubbery. I thought longingly of the bag of marshmallows back at the RV.

  Nora’s phone rang then, and she put her fork down quickly to answer it.

  “Hi, Michelle, what’s … ?”

  Why was Mom calling? Her dinner with her friend couldn’t be over yet.

  I watched Nora’s face for clues, but she didn’t give anything away. “I understand,” she said. “We’ll be right there.” I felt a sense of dread like a ball of ice in my stomach.

  Nora grabbed some cash out of her bag and put it on the table. “We have to get back to the RV.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked her as I followed her out. “Is Mom okay?”

  “I’ll let her explain it when we get there. I mean—yes, she’s okay. But let’s just walk fast now, huh?”

  The knot of worry in my gut pulled tighter.

  When we got to the RV, Nora opened the door for me to walk in, but I noticed that she didn’t follow me.

  Then I caught sight of my mom, who looked angrier than I’d ever seen her.

  “Sit down, Z.” Mom gestured to the table. “We need to talk about earlier today.”

  I took a seat, my heart pounding. What was I in trouble for?

  “Josh Feldman called just a little while ago. He was letting me know that we are no longer welcome back at S/A tomorrow, as we’d planned, and he’s revoked permission to use the interview footage from today. H
e’s furious that someone posted video of their next-generation VR tech after he expressly asked us not to. He saw it on a random photo feed, because they tagged it with the company.” Mom crossed her arms and shook her head. “Z, I’m at a complete loss here. Did you take videos when Josh said not to and then send them out?”

  But I hadn’t posted anything from today yet. Oh no. Becka or one of my other friends must have posted them and tagged me. I guess I never told them not to. This was totally my fault.

  “After everything we just talked about, about not just sharing exciting things online, for you to do this …”

  The ice ball in my stomach had spread to my limbs. I felt sick. I remembered Josh saying no pictures, but I thought he meant not to post them. I thought it would be okay to just share with my friends. All I really wanted to do was show them I was having the best #summeradventure. I should have told my friends not to post the photos. Or I guess I never should have sent them at all. All the other times I’d messed up on this trip were nothing compared to this. Now I could have caused some serious damage to Mom’s reputation. I took a deep breath. “Mom, I’m so sorry …” I began, but then I didn’t know what to say after that.

  Mom put her hand up as though to stop me, even though I’d already fallen silent. “I hear that from you practically every day on this trip, Z. I’m actually too angry to hear any more right now. Angry and disappointed. But here’s what’s going to happen. Meg was there when I heard from Josh, and she had an idea for an alternate site to film tomorrow. It’s all set up. However, you will stay in the RV. You will not be using your phone or your laptop. If it weren’t for the fact that your friends are all meeting us at VidCon, you’d be going home tomorrow. Now, get ready for bed.”

  I nodded, feeling empty and hollow, and not just from hunger. “I should tell my friends to delete …”

  “What’s done is done,” Mom said. Her expression softened. “Do you want to talk to Dad? You can use my phone for a video chat, if you want, before you go to bed.”

  I shook my head, still silent. I knew Mom would have already talked to him, and seeing one more disappointed parent face would definitely make me start crying. I handed Mom my phone and headed to the back of the RV.

  After brushing my teeth and changing into pajamas, I crawled into bed and found a book I’d packed at the bottom of my bag, distantly remembering that when I brought it I’d thought that I wouldn’t have time to read it. That I’d be too busy having my summer adventure. I opened the book, but I couldn’t concentrate.

  I closed the book and glanced at my laptop. Just then, Mom came in wearing her pajamas. We were getting an early start the next day.

  “I know you said no computer,” I said, “but I want to write an e-mail to Josh. Apologizing. Can I do that now?”

  Mom looked at me thoughtfully for a moment before answering. “I think that would be a good idea. But are you sure you wouldn’t rather compose it in the morning after you’ve had some sleep?”

  I shook my head. “I’d like to get it done now if it’s okay.”

  “All right, go ahead and write it, then send it to me. I’ll let you know if I see anything you need to change, and then I’ll send it on to Josh for you.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  The e-mail was hard to write, and I struggled over the first few sentences, typing things and then deleting them over and over and over. Finally, I came up with a letter that seemed okay, and I sent it to Mom.

  When I got back to bed, Mom’s breathing was even. She’d fallen asleep. I closed my eyes and tried to do the same.

  But as I lay there, I remembered the very worst part of all. I now knew for a fact that I’d just lost my chance to interview Winter Costello. Mom hadn’t mentioned it, but there was no way she’d let me do that now. I probably wouldn’t even be allowed to be there for the interview.

  I curled up but couldn’t sleep. My brain just kept cycling back to all the ways I’d messed up Mom’s film. There was so much more to think about on a professional shoot than the films I was used to making. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a real filmmaker. Every time I thought I was getting it—I was wrong. And instead of getting better at things, I was messing up more and more. I really wished I could talk to my friends right now. I needed them more than ever, even though they’d probably be mad at me, too, for promising I’d try to get them into the interview with Winter when now I definitely wasn’t going to do that.

  Mom started to snore. I nudged her lightly and she rolled over. Lying there in the silence, I worried about my mom, and her film. I knew I was on the trip of a lifetime, learning about filmmaking firsthand from someone who really knew her stuff, but what if my mistakes totally ruined it for her? Would it turn out okay without the footage from Simulated Actuality? What if …

  Mom let out another snore, snapping me out of my thoughts. I reached for a pair of earplugs, closed my eyes, and tried to fall asleep. I needed to get some rest—I had to be the best me tomorrow.

  I woke up early the next morning, ready to get to work fixing the mess I’d made of this trip. The only problem was I couldn’t do my real work since I was currently banned from the next shoot, but I’d never let a challenge stop me before.

  Nora was already awake and sitting at the table. “Hey,” I said.

  “Morning,” Nora replied.

  “Hey, Nora—I’m really sorry I messed up the shoot.” I waited for her response.

  “Thanks for saying that. It’s disappointing that we can’t use the interview we got yesterday. But you don’t need to apologize to me,” she said gently. “Here, have a seat—how about if I make you some cocoa?”

  I felt a rush of gratitude. I knew I 100 percent had not earned Nora’s generosity. I shook my head. “Nope. I mean, thank you—but I’m going to help you guys today. Do you want some coffee?”

  Nora blinked in surprise but said, “Sure. I’ll take hazelnut.”

  I grabbed the box of coffee pods from the cabinet and measured out the water. I pulled down the toaster, too, and plugged it in before I opened the bag of English muffins.

  As I made breakfast, Nora said, “Can I ask, Z—why did you share that footage?”

  She sounded genuinely curious. And kind. So I answered honestly. “I knew he said no pictures, but I guess I thought he meant not to post them online. I really thought it would be okay to share them with my friends. I just got so caught up in the excitement, and was just thinking of finally having something awesome to send them. Now I see how silly that was.” I paused, not sure if I was ready to open up and tell Nora everything that was on my mind. Still, she looked at me with more concern and interest than she had shown the whole rest of the trip, so I went on. “Right before we left, Winter Costello, who’s basically my online idol, started the hashtag #summeradventure, and I was so psyched to participate. But being an assistant has been way harder than I thought, and yesterday seemed like my first chance for a really great post. I was just planning to use something from the end—the photo op. But I wanted to give my friends a preview, to show them what an amazing experience yesterday was. They all seem to be having really awesome summers.”

  “That makes sense,” Nora said. “When I first started college, I wanted to share everything with everyone. But the stuff I posted was boring to everyone I knew, since I’m from Seattle and stayed there for school. But almost everyone I knew went away to college. I had a friend who went to school in New York City, and even one who went to Edinburgh, in Scotland. She kept posting pictures of castles—it looked like she’d gotten to go to Hogwarts,” Nora added with a laugh.

  I laughed, too. “You must have been jealous.”

  “I was, but then things kind of evened out. I’m a film student, you know, so my homework is sometimes to make a movie, which is pretty cool. My friend in Scotland was studying medieval literature—so once she ran out of castle selfies, there wasn’t that much to post. Plus, remember, everybody only posts their own highlights. You can’t measure your everyday ag
ainst their highlight reel.”

  “That’s very film student-y advice,” I told her. “I’ll try to remember that, if I’m ever allowed online again. For now, you want an English muffin?”

  “Sure,” Nora said.

  “Nora, can you think of any other way I can help today? Other than breakfast?” I turned around and leaned against the little counter, hoping Nora’s nice streak would continue.

  “I’m not sure,” Nora said. “Your mom made it pretty clear that you were to stay here during today’s shoot.”

  I knew Nora was right, but maybe there was some way I could be helpful. “Is there something I could do that wouldn’t require me leaving the RV?” I asked Nora. She looked around and thought for a moment.

  “Actually, I do have an idea for you. What about handling the equipment inventory before and after the shoot? It’s not glamorous, but you wouldn’t have to actually go to the shoot to do it …”

  “No—I mean, that’s a great idea! Do you think Mom would let me do that?”

  “My advice? Just jump in with the precheck and see.”

  I nodded gratefully. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I’ll go get the precheck clipboard, and we can start on that while we eat. You’ll impress your Mom right away this morning,” Nora said.

  “Thanks, Nora.” I put her English muffin in the toaster and pressed the lever, thinking that she wasn’t so bad after all.

  By the time Mom was ready for breakfast twenty minutes later, Nora had helped me with the full precheck inventory, and I had Mom’s French vanilla coffee pod all ready to go. I hit BREW and stood beside the machine, waiting to bring her the mug.

  “Thank you, Z,” Mom said when I gave her the coffee.

  I handed her the clipboard, too. “I was hoping I could help with the inventory. I know I can’t come on the shoot today, but I still want to help. If it’s okay.”

  Mom scanned the clipboard. “This looks good, Z.” She studied my face, then seemed to come to a decision. “You can handle this job for the rest of the trip. Good thinking.”