by Mari Mancusi
The room we enter reminds me of NASAs Ground Control. NTs man rows of terminals, all facing a wall sized computer screen with a satellite map of ...
I scrunch my eyes. Is that Manhattan?
"Wow," I whisper. "That's ... that's ..."
"Earth?" Dawn concludes.
"Well, it's a map of one city on Earth. New York. Where I'm from."
As if on cue, one of the nTs chooses that moment to type a command into her terminal, and the screen zooms in. I can now see people bustling up and down a busy Midtown street, as clearly as if I were watching a movie or a live video feed, or just simply looking out a window.
"They must be monitoring Earth or something," I reason, trying to make sense of it all. "Keeping an eye on the Terrans who 'Gaze."
"Yeah," Dawn says, sounding doubtful. He sits down at one of the computer terminals and starts typing in commands. "Look," he says, "Other feeds."
I peer over his shoulder, fascinated. "You're right," I exclaim. "This one's the Upper West Side where I live. Lincoln Center. See, I sometimes go sit by that fountain and read." I look at the next screen over. "And that's the East Village," I say, pointing to it. "Outside Club Luna. That's where the 'Gazers all hang out." I scratch my head. "I wonder if they just sit here and watch all the places 'Gazers visit. To make sure they're safe or something."
But even as I say this, doubts niggle at my brain. Something's not quite adding up here. How could the government monitor an alternate reality from Terra? How could they place cameras on the streets and somehow send the live signal back to headquarters? My interdimensional physics training is spotty-okay; well, nonexistent-but this doesn't make sense. And even if they could monitor everyone, why would they bother? Why would they care what their citizens are doing on Earth?
And, most troubling, what are all these servers for?
"Skye, check this out," Dawn says, typing a few commands on the keyboard. He pulls up a 3-D architecture program that's currently busy rendering a skyscraper. I stare at the screen, horrified confusion swirling through me. "That's my new job site," I say, gulping. "We're supposed to move offices there after the game is finished."
Dawn looks at me. "They're building it here," he says slowly. "Skye, I think I understand what's going on now. You might want to sit down."
His words might as well be a truck barreling me over at a hundred miles an hour. I sink into a chair, crazy thoughts pinging all over my brain. It can't be, can it? No. This is impossible. But ... the massive servers. The map rooms and rendering programs ...
I dive for a computer and latch on to a keyboard, typing commands as fast as my fingers can handle. The network is surprisingly simple to navigate, nearly identical to my game back on Earth. I open directories, scan folders, read files. A dawning horror consumes me at each turn as I recognize people, places, objects. It's all here. Everything to do about the Earth I know.
I find a folder listed PATCH CONTENTS and click open the READ ME file.
Notes to Earth Patch 11.09.02.
Major subway upgrade. System Users will no longer have to wait twenty minutes for a train.
Doorman NUCs added to several apartment buildings. New celebrity NUCs added to Luna locale. Several cultural and historical name inaccuracies fixed. Fashion update: We've introduced a 1980s retro wardrobe players can choose from, including legwarmers, horizontal striped tops, and leggings.
New goals added: In order to keep visiting Terrans involved, they will be approached and offered a variety of new objectives when they interact with NUCs. Each objective will reward the User in a new way.
"What are you reading?" Dawn asks, coming over behind me. "What's an NUC?"
"Non-user character," I guess, my voice choked by horror. This all seems to be falling into place. An NPC is a video game term for a computer-generated character. They look like regular players, but they're actually just computer programs, designed to assist or distract players from their goals. I think an NUC is something very similar...."
"So, why would there be those on Earth?" Dawn asks.
That's is the sixty-four-thousand dollar question. I stare at the screen, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to come up with some logical explanation besides the very obvious one right in front of me.
I think back to my last trip to Earth. The doorman, the express subway, the change in club clothes, the whispers that Paris Hilton was hanging out at Luna. My stomach churns. My vision grows spotty. I want to be sick.
It can't be. This has to be some kind of sick joke. Some kind of mistake. I'm reading it all wrong. I'm drawing conclusions that shouldn't be made. This is impossible. Absolutely impossible.
And yet ...
"What if Earth isn't another world after all?" I ask slowly. "What if 'Gazing is really just a game?"
Dawn sits down beside me, face solemn, stroking my back with a gentle hand. He's already figured it out, I realize. He knows it's true.
"Oh God, it's all here," I say, choking out the words past the huge lump in my throat. "Maps, people, objects, quests. All the tools game designers need to create a virtual reality. Terrans aren't being transported to another world at all. They're just being uploaded into some fucking video game!"
Desperate to be wrong, I open another folder. One labeled Nuts. Inside are three-dimensional renderings of people, and data. Some characters I know. Bruno, the burly bouncer from Luna. Suzy. My boss, Madeline.
And Craig. My own boyfriend.
"'Computer-generated nonuser characters shall enhance the world, provide a more realistic atmosphere to the game, and offer quests to eligible players:" I read quietly. "'They can be identified by moon tattoos on their hands or necks'" I think back to Suzy. To Craig. To the tattoos they sported. I thought it was a new trend. Stupid, stupid me.
I lean back in my chair, trying to absorb it all, to take it all in. My mind feels like it's going to explode. It has been hard enough coming to terms with the fact that maybe I'm actually someone I don't know, that I could be Mariah from Terra and not Skye from Earth. It's quite another to realize that not only am I definitely not from Earth, but Earth doesn't exist, except in a room of computer servers and the imaginations of some very creative programmers.
No wonder Earth is so much like Terra. Terrans recreated it. That's why we have the same pop culture references, the same Starbucks on the corner, the same fashion sense, the same language. Not because of some ridiculous parallel universe theory But because everything on Earth was literally created by Terran game designers. They've simply taken a snapshot of their pre-war past and expanded on it. Made it cooler, better, nicer. Added some sunshine. Some moonbeams. And there you have it: a pleasing diversion for bored Indys.
Just like my own game-RealLife-that I'd created for people on Earth. From the start, I've imagined people playing my game, using it as an escape from their day-to-day lives, allowing them to transform into someone they aren't for a few hours. To escape from the stresses and annoyances of real life.
And what have I been doing really? Creating a game for people to get away from a game. How fucking ironic.
"Are you okay, Skye?" Dawn asks, peering at me with worried eyes.
"Skye?" I repeat bitterly. "Skye? I'm not Skye. Skye's just a made-up persona by a video game designer. Earth doesn't exist, so obviously I'm from here. You were right. You were all right all along, Dawn. I'm Mariah. Obviously I'm Mariah."
Dawn pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tight. I try to relax in his arms, but my body is trembling too hard. I bury my face in his shoulder and sob. It's all too much to take. I can barely breathe.
My whole life has been a lie. My every memory obviously implanted, just as Dawn warned. My parents, my boyfriend, my very world? Not only will I never see them again, but in reality I've never seen them at all. They don't really exist.
Oh God, I can't take this.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie," Dawn murmurs. "This must be so hard for you."
I pull away from his hug. Angry. Hurt. Confused.
Alone. This must be hard? Please. Hard doesn't even begin to explain the pain, the anguish, the horror at what I've just seen. How can I deal with this? How can I just accept the fact that my whole reality exists solely on a fucking computer server?
"So, what does this mean for the Eclipsers?" I demand, my voice harsh. "I mean, the fact that Earth's a computer program instead of another world? Will that help or hurt their cause? What does this mean?"
Dawn looks at me helplessly. "I don't know," he says. "I hadn't thought about it, really. I'm more worried about you."
His words bring a small comfort. I remind myself that I am not facing this horror alone. I've had a great shock, sure, but at the same time, I'd already long ago given up my world in exchange for a life here. I belong on Terra. With the Eclipsers, with the Dark Siders-with Dawn, who loves me completely, no matter what. So, as horrifying as it is to realize my whole past has been a lie, at least I can be assured that my future is true.
"It does prove a point, I suppose," Dawn adds. "Now we know for sure that the government is just trying to steal the Indys' money and land."
"We need to find a way to let the Indys know," I say, pulling out my camera and taking a few snapshots of the room-trying to focus, to push down the panic growing inside me. "For proof," I explain.
Dawn looks at me. `Are you okay?" he asks again. "You don't have to be strong here. You've just been through a horrible shock. It's okay to be upset."
I swallow hard, loving him so much at that moment I can barely stand it. "I know," I manage to say without choking. "I'll deal with it later. Right now, we have to focus on our mission."
I finish taking photos and we step outside the room. My legs feel like lead, making it nearly impossible to walk. My brain won't calm down, reeling at top speed. I'd like nothing more than to find a quiet room and just sit down and process it all in my head, alone. But analysis will have to wait until we're safe.
We head back through the server room, my chest hurting as I see the whirring machines, knowing my whole life is stored somewhere on those hard drives. Everything that means anything to me could simply be deleted at a moment's notice. A simple patch to fix a bug could wipe out my whole existence.
No. I'm a real person, I try to reassure myself. Most of my memories may be fake, but I'm real. I'm Mariah. A revolutionary leader. A savior to the downtrodden. The woman Dawn loves. That's something. I have a life and people who need me. I've got to hold on to that.
We go back out into the hallway to continue our search for the exit. We come to a dead end with a locked door that I open with the simulator, praying it's a way out. Instead, it opens into a room filled with large file cabinet like things against the walls. Curious, I walk over to one, peering at its label.
Rupert Smith 11-01-2107
I pull open the drawer, to see what kind of files they might have on old Rupert. To my surprise, the drawer actually contains Rupert himself. Or what's left of him, anyway. His corpse lies white and stiff on a cold metal slab. I put two and two together and realize what this whole room must be.
"A morgue," I exclaim. "Dawn, come look at this."
Dawn walks over to my side, peering down at poor Rupert, a former middle-aged Indy by the look of it. His corpse is swollen, naked, drained of blood, and pasty white, a pair of Moongazing glasses over his eyes. I reach down, slowly pulling the dark glasses off his face, wondering why he's wearing them and nothing else. But what's behind the shades makes me stumble backward in shock. Dawn catches me, propping me up, looking as horrified as I feel.
And here I'd thought it couldn't get any worse.
"Oh my God!" I murmur, desperate but unable to look away. The sockets where Rupert's eyes should have been are now hollow, blackened pits; charred remnants of his former peepers. "How strange." I hurriedly replace the sunglasses. "It's almost as if he gazed into the sun too long. But that's crazy. You guys don't even have sunshine. So, what could have burned out his eyes?"
"Maybe the moon."
I whirl around, eyes wide. Will this day ever stop surprising me? "Moongazing," I whisper in shocked realization. "Do you think? I mean, could it really.. ." I gesture helplessly to the corpse.
Dawn shrugs. "Seems entirely possible. If Earth really is just a computer-generated game, then that obviously means you're not really traveling to another world when they lock you in one of their rooms. You're stuck twenty-four-seven in a video game simulation. And the visuals are intense, right? So intense you believe they're real. What if, after wearing these glasses long-term, they end up literally burning up your eyes?"
"And kill you, evidently, as well," I add, shoving Rupert's corpse back into the cabinet and slamming the drawer. I lean against the wall, sucking in a breath. "I guess that's not something they'd put in the brochure."
Dawn grimaces. All along you're thinking you've just traveled to a whole other plane of existence, a brave new world that you and your fellow Indys are populating. You're ready to start a new life," he says. "But in reality, you're stuck in a box, lost in a drug-induced hallucination until your brain crumbles and your eyes are literally burnt out of your head."
"And the government pockets all your assets," I say. "This would solve the population problem to boot. It's brilliant in a way. Sick, but brilliant."
I stare at the rows upon rows of boxes, each labeled with a name and date. All these people went willingly to their deaths, lambs to the slaughter, with no one the wiser. Rupert's friends, his family, his coworkers-they all assume he's now living a perfect life on a better world. No one has any idea of his real new digs: a nine-by-three drawer in a government fridge.
I pull out the drawer again and take a photo of the body. Then I go to the next drawer, slide out the dead Indy there, and take another. I repeat this over and over, taking photos of corpse after corpse. Each looks exactly the same-naked, bloated, blackened pits for eyes. My stomach churns with nausea, begging me to stop, but I ignore it. This is too important to be queasy.
"The dates of death," Dawn observes, scanning the drawers, "are all recent. These are all labeled from the last week." He walks to the other side of the room. "These are a bit older. It looks like these people died a few months ago."
I cross the room to join him, yanking open a drawer of one of the less recently deceased. I take a photo. The body still has the telltale blackened eyes, but it looks yellowed, shrunken.
"Why do they keep them?" I wonder aloud. "Why not just bury them or something?"
"Who knows? Maybe they don't want them found. Or maybe they're experimenting on them, trying to discover why they die prematurely. Or perhaps they even harvest their organs. I mean, if it's only their minds and eyes that go, they die with healthy livers and kidneys and hearts, right? Perfect for the fat-cat government officials to use to prolong their own miserable lives."
I shiver at the thought. "That's disgusting."
I head to the back of the room to another set of drawers. Just a few more pictures and I'll have enough evidence to rally the Indys and get them to force the government to shut down the Moongazing program for good. It won't save these poor people, of course, but at least it will prevent others from dying the same horrible way.
"I wonder how long it takes for someone to die," Dawn says, pulling out another drawer. "It must be a while. After all, you were inside for a few months before the Eclipsers pulled you out."
"Thank God they did," I say, scanning the drawers. I've shot a lot of male bodies. I'd like a woman this time. "Or I'd have ended up-" The words die in my throat as my eyes focus on a name on one of the drawers. My camera falls out of my hands and crashes onto the floor. "Dawn," I cry, my voice scratchy and hoarse. "I think you'd better get over here."
I stare at the name, hoping, begging, praying that I'm somehow reading it wrong. But no. It's there, clear as day. The name I never expected in a million years to read on a drawer in a morgue: Mariah Quinn.
17
"What is it?" Dawn asks, instantly appearing at my side. My thro
at's closed up. I can't speak. I point a shaky finger at the drawer. Dawn stares, his mouth gaping, then turns to me, an uncomprehending look on his face.
"What the hell ... ?" he whispers. "How can that ... how can that be?"
I shake my head. I have no idea. I really thought nothing could top the shock of learning that Earth was just a virtual reality video game. But if Earth is a game, then by all rights I have to be Mariah. And if I'm Mariah, I'm obviously not a corpse. Which leads us to the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Who's in the drawer?
"Maybe it's empty," Dawn reasons, not sounding all that convinced. "Maybe they're ... saving it for you, hoping to kill you and then put you there."
I swallow hard. "Right," I agree. "That must be it. The drawer's probably empty."
We fall silent, staring at the drawer, neither one ready to test the theory.
"Should ... should I open it?" I ask at last. "I mean, so we have proof that there's no one inside?" I really would rather not, but how can I just walk away not knowing? I've come this far. I have to know the truth, no matter what it turns out to be.
"I don't know," Dawn says, sounding at a loss. He reaches down and grabs the camera on the floor, fingering the lens. I stare at the drawer, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. What to do, what to do, what to do?
I take a deep breath and yank it open.
The drawer isn't empty. There's a corpse lying on the slab. The body of a girl. A naked girl with glasses who looks exactly like me.
I stumble backward, then fall to my knees, unable to catch my breath. I double over and throw up, sickly yellow bile spewing from my lips and pooling onto the stone floor. Dawn's soon next to me, holding my hair back from my face and rubbing a hand over my back. He's saying something, something soothing, but the blood pounding in my ears makes it impossible to hear what's coming from his lips. I take a deep breath and pull myself to my feet, vision blurry with unshed tears. I shiver, my body suddenly freezing cold. I realize I'm likely going into shock and I try to break free from the darkness, pull myself together. Losing it now could end very badly.
