by Jason Segel
“Damn them,” Elvis says with a sigh but without an accent. “Even when they’re not here those two always find a way to ruin my fun.”
I hold up the devices I gathered out of the car. “Oh, I think we’re all going to have lots of fun today,” I say. “What do you say? Time for some show-and-tell?”
Elvis shrugs. “Sure,” he says, settling into one of the plush white chairs. “As long as you guys go first.”
“Elvis is going to share his latest project with us,” I explain to the girls.
“And I believe in saving the best for last,” he adds. Humility was never his strong suit. “I don’t want to blow your minds before I get a chance to see what you’ve brought.”
Busara snorts and plops down in a chair opposite Elvis. “That’s okay. As much as we’re all dying to see your latest science fair project, I think we can hold out a little bit longer.”
“Oooh,” says Elvis. “Sassy. I like it.”
“Okay, okay,” I say, putting an end to their jousting. “Let’s start with this.” I hand the undamaged steel sphere to Busara and set its flattened twin down on a coffee table. “Want to show him what it does?”
Elvis eyes the object. “It’s a hologram projector.”
“How did you know that?” Busara asks. She’s impressed.
“Just a guess.” Elvis shrugs modestly. “If I were going to design one, that’s how I’d do it.”
Busara presses something on the surface of the sphere and sets the ball down on the table in front of us. Suddenly a life-size Marlow Holm appears, doing squats on the coffee table as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Nice.” Elvis stands up and walks around the table, admiring the image from all sides. Then he sticks his arm through Marlow’s stomach and wiggles his fingers on the other side. “Completely opaque. Pretty impressive. Who’s Mr. Sporty?”
“His name is Marlow,” I say. “His mother worked for the Company. She invented the technology. Then she found out her bosses were exploring military applications.”
“Of course they were,” Elvis says. “You Americans all love a good war.”
I choose not to take the bait, though I’m tempted to point out that he’s officially one of us. “Marlow’s mother tried to expose the project. So the Company arranged a car accident. She died and her son was badly injured. Now Marlow is one of the people we need to rescue. They put a disk on him and locked him up in a capsule.” Though there’s a very good chance that he’s already dead, I add silently in my mind.
Kat picks up the flattened projector and holds it out for Elvis to see. “The Company used this one to cause an accident that killed four people. It’s proof.”
Elvis takes it and looks it over. It’s clear he isn’t impressed. “Proof of what?” he asks. “The thing’s kaput.”
“Simon said you’re a genius. We thought maybe you could—” Busara starts.
“Fix it? No way,” Elvis says dismissively. “It’s totally useless. The other one, though…Something like that could come in handy. Maybe I can come up with a few ideas. But all that can wait!” He claps his hands and rubs the palms together. “It’s my turn to share!”
Elvis reaches over and grabs an ordinary black leather eyeglasses case off the side table next to him. Then he opens the box and pulls out a pair of chunky black glasses. I notice that the sides appear much thicker than usual, but without them, the frames would seem fairly normal. “Not very fashionable,” he admits. Then he hands them to Busara. “But I think they would look lovely on you.”
“Hey, why does she get to try them first?” I complain. “I’m the one who saved your life, remember?”
“Yes,” says Elvis. “But she is the one who is making it worth living.”
Busara snorts as she slides them onto her face. I can tell from her expression that she isn’t expecting much. But the instant they’re on, she jumps to her feet, turning in a circle as she takes in the room. “Oh my God,” she marvels. There’s respect in her voice that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”
“Yes,” replies Elvis gleefully. “Do you see the menu? Choose Security. That’s one of my favorites. Sanitation is pretty good too.”
“Shit,” Busara says appreciatively. Whatever she’s seeing must be amazing. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her use that particular word before. She’s obviously experiencing some form of augmented reality, because the glasses’ lenses are clear. I can see Busara’s eyes right through them. But she’s seeing something I’m not—something that’s been overlaid on the environment. Whatever it is, it can’t be real, so I don’t understand how it could be dangerous.
“Take a look.” Busara takes off the glasses and passes them to me.
When I put them on, I see the room I’m sitting in. There’s a menu to my right that tells me the glasses are still in SECURITY mode. I look around. Glowing green lines indicate the presence of electrical wires connecting a series of security cameras that are invisible to the naked eye. I use my eyes to toggle down through the menu to SANITATION. I can see all the pipes and plumbing inside the walls and under the floor. ELECTRICAL highlights the house’s electrical grid. POSITION shows me exactly where I am in the house. It also shows me the location of two secret rooms nearby, their entrances carefully concealed.
“What’s in the two hidden rooms?” I ask Elvis.
“One is a vault where the owner stores his gold. The other is a safe room where the owner can hide in case anyone breaks in looking for his gold.”
“Wait—there’s really gold down here in the basement?” Kat asks.
“Sure,” Elvis says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Where do you keep your gold?”
Now I know why the tech is so dangerous. The information I’m looking at renders this hilltop fortress about as safe as a cardboard playhouse.
I give the glasses to Kat. “How did you do this?” I ask Elvis.
“It was easy. I located the building plans for the house,” he said. “Believe it or not, they weren’t hard to find. It’s like putting all your valuables in a safe and then leaving a Post-it with the combination on the front.”
“But the software,” says Busara. “Did you design it yourself?”
“I don’t have time for that sort of thing. I’m more of an editor than an engineer,” Elvis says modestly. “I borrowed some software from the Company. Then I improved it, of course.”
“You borrowed it?” Kat asks. “You mean you hacked the Company.”
“Why get bogged down in semantics?” says Elvis. “I found it. That’s all that matters.” And now I understand why he thought the Company’s next big play would be augmented reality. “They’ve got a whole team focused exclusively on maps. Last time I checked in on them, they seemed pretty close to finishing one. If I had to guess, I’d say they’ll be using it for something soon.”
“What’s the map of?” Kat asks.
“New York City,” says Elvis. “You can access it with my glasses. Won’t do you much good here, though.”
“They’ve made a map like yours of all New York City?” I ask.
“No, of course not!” Elvis says with a laugh. “Just the island of Manhattan.”
Just the island of Manhattan, he says. The financial heart of the United States.
“That sounds like a security nightmare,” says Kat.
“Oh, come on. The Company’s not planning to knock off a bunch of Chase branches. They don’t need to rob people to get all their money. That’s so old-fashioned. I think the Company has something else in mind for the tech. Probably an augmented reality game of some sort. With a good enough map, you could turn the whole city into one giant sandbox.” He claps his hands once more and rubs them together greedily. “So! My turn again! When do I get to try Otherworld?”
I
knew he’d ask. Elvis may be a genius, but he’s never had much common sense. He’s the sort of guy who’d find a way to cure cancer and then celebrate by shooting bottle rockets out of his ass. “You don’t get to try it,” I tell him. “It’s too dangerous without a headset.”
“Then come with me to Otherworld,” he says. He’s not going to give up. I can already tell. “You brought two of those disks, didn’t you?”
“No way,” Kat tells him. “Didn’t Simon tell you about them? The disks are deadly. You could die.”
“Like I’m living it up right now,” Elvis says. “Come on, just a peek! If you guys don’t want to go, maybe Busara could join me.”
“She can’t,” I say. “She’s sick.”
Busara is giving me serious side eye. “Which doesn’t prevent me from speaking for myself. I have a heart condition,” she explains to Elvis. “With a disk on, the action in Otherworld could kill me.”
“You’re sick?” Elvis looks stricken.
“Moving on!” Kat announces.
“Thank you,” Busara says with a huff.
“Look, here’s the deal with Otherworld,” I say. “There’s no way any of us are wearing disks. I don’t even know where we’d end up in Otherworld when we put them on. We might not be together in the same place.”
“You’d both enter the game at the gates of Imra,” Busara says. “Elvis is a new player, so he’d go straight to setup and then to Imra. You’re not a new player, obviously, and the game will recognize you no matter what gear you’re wearing. The last time you were in Otherworld, you passed through the exit in the ice cave. So the game will send you back to the beginning too. And don’t forget—one of the disks we brought here is the master disk that my dad made. Remember the amulet I wore when I was the Clay Man? Whoever has the master disk would be wearing it in the game. It could send you anywhere you want to go.”
I give Busara a dirty look. I don’t know why I was expecting her to back me up. The only thing she really gives a damn about is finding her father. Busara was the one who tricked me into putting on a disk in the first place—all so she could punish Milo Yolkin for the things he did to her dad. In the past few days, I’d almost started to trust her again. Almost.
“Yeah, the master disk could send one of us anywhere he wanted to go. The other person would get screwed. That’s how it worked when you were the Clay Man, remember? You got to go wherever you wanted, and I was the one who always ended up fighting for his life.”
“I’m sorry,” Busara says.
“Yeah, sure you are.”
“Come on, Simon! Don’t give me a hard time!” she pleads. “It’s just that we’re safe here for a little while. If you and Elvis go to the ice cave, you guys could find a way to free my dad’s avatar from the ice. He could help us figure out what to do to stop the Company. My dad will tell us where to find his body, and who knows—maybe he can help us rescue Marlow and Gorog, too.”
“I think we should do this,” Elvis announces. “I get to see Otherworld. We both talk to Busara’s dad. It’s a win-win situation.” No, it’s a blatant attempt to suck up to Busara.
“No one’s going to win if you get murdered by some psycho player,” Kat points out. “I vote no. We wait until we can buy some headsets.”
She doesn’t know about the headsets. I watch her face fall as Elvis tells her about the bidding wars. There’s no way we’ll ever be able to purchase one. If we return to Otherworld, we’ll have to use disks.
“We’ll have to go back sooner rather than later,” Busara says when Elvis is done. “We could use my dad’s help. And he needs ours.”
I look over at Kat. It hurts to see her look so defeated.
“I gladly volunteer for this mission,” Elvis announces.
“He can’t go alone,” I tell Kat. “I’ll have to go with him.”
“Elvis shouldn’t be going at all,” Kat says. “I’ll go with you.”
“Your leg is still injured,” I tell her.
“It’s getting better!” she insists.
“It’s still too much of a risk. Your body needs a few more days to heal.”
“Then it’s decided!” Elvis claps his hands and rubs them together. “Grab the disks. It’s time for Elvis and Simon’s big adventure.”
“Not tonight,” I say. “Tomorrow.” If I’m doing this, I’m going to need a good night’s sleep—and some time alone with Kat.
* * *
—
It’s the first time Kat and I have shared a bed without someone else in the room. I’ve dreamed about this moment every day for a million years. Now it’s finally arrived, and she’s lying with her back to me, which manages to be extremely depressing despite the fact that her newly clean sweatpants say DIVA across the ass.
“Kat—” I say.
“What if something happens to you?” she asks.
“I’ll be careful,” I promise, though we both know it’s bullshit. There’s no way to be careful in Otherworld.
“We’ve been a couple for less than ninety-six hours. We deserve more time together,” she says.
I couldn’t agree more. I finally get the one thing I wanted most in the world—and now I have to leave her. I’ve experienced my share of disappointments in life, but this is by far the biggest. I’m really hoping the universe gets tired of teaching me lessons. Each one seems to suck more than the last.
“Oh, come on.” I try to play cool. “You’re acting like I’m already dead! Elvis and I will only be crossing the ice fields. The Children will help us reach the cave.”
“And what about the two thousand psychos who’ve bought all the headsets?”
“We’ll just have to avoid them.”
“How?” she demands.
“I don’t know,” I admit, giving up the act. “Listen, Kat, if you think we should wait, we’ll wait. But you heard what Elvis said. We won’t be getting headsets anytime soon.”
Kat doesn’t respond.
“Do you want to spend tonight arguing?” I ask her.
“No.” When she rolls over, I can feel her heart pounding against my chest. This is our first night together, and both of us know that it may be our last.
* * *
—
Kat is sleeping, but I haven’t once closed my eyes. I slide on my jeans and leave the room, shutting the door softly behind me. Outside in the upstairs living area, the glass-enclosed gardens are dimly lit. I make it to the kitchen and manage to locate a glass. I’m filling it with water when I hear something behind me, rolling across tiles. I turn to see Marlow Holm walking toward me, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He stops right in front of me. His nose is less than a few feet from mine, yet his eyes are staring straight through me. He doesn’t seem to realize I’m here. I feel the glass slip out of my hand—and the spray of water on my ankles. Either I’ve gone completely insane or Marlow must have died in Otherworld and I’m being visited by his ghost. My knees weaken. I’m on the verge of collapse when Marlow vanishes and another figure steps into the room.
Elvis has already shaved his head so he can stick on the disk in the morning, and I probably wouldn’t recognize him if it weren’t for his shit-eating grin. The smile vanishes as soon as he sees me, and he sets the controls he’s fashioned out of old PlayStation gear down on the counter. “Jesus, Simon. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”
One of my hands finds the fridge handle, which I use to steady myself. The other clenches into a fist that flies through the air but hits nothing.
“Hey! I’m sorry!” Elvis cries. Despite the punch I just threw at him, he lurches forward and grabs me before I rip the handle off the fridge and crash to the ground. “I really thought you’d find it funny.”
“How did you do that?” I gasp.
“The projector,” he says. Once I’m fully upright, he lets go of me and t
akes a hesitant step backward. “That’s why it’s round—it moves. I’ve been tinkering with it since you guys went to bed.”
“Don’t you ever sleep?” I ask him.
“Sure. About four hours a night,” Elvis tells me. “They’ve had me on Adderall since the second grade. But seriously, Simon. What the hell has happened to you?”
“You’ll see,” I tell him. “When we get to Otherworld.”
I never wanted to see this place again. Yet here I am, standing on top of a dormant volcano with high, gilded gates at my back. The buildings behind me house the workers of Imra, the Otherworld welcome center that lies deep inside the volcano’s cone. This is where all new players arrive. In Imra, you can sample the pleasures that the virtual world has to offer—and figure out what suits your tastes best. I have zero desire to set foot inside the city the Company once billed as the Resort of the Future. Elvis and I have a long trek ahead of us—across a wasteland and over the ice fields. There’s no telling what we’ll encounter along the way.
In the distance, a cloud of red dust is rolling across the otherwise empty landscape. I’m pretty sure it’s a herd of buffalo. Like the other animals here, they’re much more dangerous than the real-world creatures they were designed to resemble. I was nearly trampled by the buffalo on my first visit to Otherworld. Their stench alone could have killed me. As I watch the stampede, it occurs to me that there’s nothing for the beasts to be running to or from. I wonder if they ever rest. They must know as well as I do that it’s dangerous to stop moving in Otherworld.
A glowing strip of white lines the horizon beyond the wasteland. It’s the edge of the ice fields. The realms here end and begin abruptly. You can literally step out of one and into the next. I’m trying to calculate how long it will take to reach the ice, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
There’s a female avatar standing behind me, a gleaming battle-axe swung over one shoulder. Whoever’s controlling the avatar is clearly a developmentally challenged pervert. Her boobs are so massive that if Earth physics applied here, she’d fall over face-forward.
