Version Zero

by David Yoon

  no service

  After this, he could buy a hundred new phones. Fuck that. He could hire a team and create the next new phone.

  Build it new, build it smart, build it fair.

  Make the world better, make money.

  The old giants lying half-sunk and shattered like Ozymandias.

  “This was a military base during the Cold War,” said a voice. “It was a steal.”

  Pilot.

  “I can’t believe you pulled this off,” said Max.

  “You are the one who pulled this off,” said Pilot. “You inspired me. You inspired all of us. Come look.”

  Pilot led Max into the cavernous building and opened a cherrywood panel trimmed in brass, and when Max passed through he saw a makeshift workstation buried under a nest of wires: a dozen monitors, camera joysticks, and so on, all hooked up to Pilot’s laptop. There was a map of the entire compound. Most of it was highlighted in blue, marking where cameras could see.

  “What are these blank spots?” said Max.

  “Our sleeping quarters,” said Pilot. “Me, you, Shane and Akiko, Brayden. Cody is out here in this separate tower. No cameras in those quarters, for privacy.”

  “What about our guests?”

  “There are no rooms for them.”

  Max raised his eyebrows: Well, all right, then.

  Max found a thin gooseneck mic and tapped it. “Does this work?”

  “Try it out.”

  Max switched cameras. Dozens of cameras, showing every angle of every room: a kitchen, a mess hall, storage. There was an arena-like room, ringed with a curving ribbon of glass windows. A dais sat in the center under a cone of sunlight streaming in from a round skylight in the vaulted ceiling. On the dais, a simple ring of chairs and nothing else.

  Behind a banner, Shane was kissing Akiko. Max switched away, switched back, away, and back again, but no matter how many times he switched, it was still Shane and not him.

  “You can talk to them, too,” said Pilot.

  Max held a button. “Get a room.”

  Shane jumped. Akiko knocked over a nearby fern.

  “Jesus,” said Shane, scanning the ceiling. He pulled an eyelid and stuck out his tongue like a child would, and Max laughed, his voice big and echoing.

  “You guys are such the perfect couple,” said Max’s booming voice. “Always have been.”

  Akiko, red, tickled the air with her fingers.

  They switched cameras. In a corner of a hallway stood Brayden, massaging his scalp and then smelling his fingertips. Massage, smell.

  Pilot barked into the mic. “Mister Brayden!”

  “Ughnghngh?” said Brayden. He leapt, eyes like saucers.

  “Sorry to scare you,” said Pilot. “We’re meeting up in Control in five. Can you bring up some champagne from storage?”

  Brayden nodded, eyed the ceiling, and backed slowly out of the frame.

  “You’re so bad,” said Max.

  “I do not know what is wrong with me,” said Pilot. “But I just love fucking with that kid.”

  * * *

  * * *

  They crowded around the monitors while Akiko tapped around.

  “All these cameras will livestream?” she said.

  Pilot nodded. “We make history right here. Tomorrow.”

  “The world won’t ever know it was us,” said Max.

  “But we’ll know,” said Akiko. She put an arm around Max’s shoulder, and Max ached sweetly inside. Did she not know how dizzy her arm on his shoulder made him? Did she not care how dangerous such a small gesture was?

  But. The longer her arm stayed there, the longer it felt like that was the way things were supposed to be, and Max found a great urge to turn his head and place the tip of his nose upon the tiny fringe of hair on her forearms, just to see how it would feel.

  It would feel perfect.

  Did Akiko really desire Max? Or was she simply afraid that she had met Shane too soon? That, once locked in with marriage, she would always wonder?

  She kept her arm on Max’s shoulder. We would make such a great couple, he thought recklessly.

  Shane moved in closer, like a sentry. Max decided now would be a good time to stand. He freed himself from Akiko’s touch.

  “Where is that Brayden?” said Max to no one.

  A panel clicked open, and Brayden appeared. “I need help carrying stuff.”

  Max sprang forward to assist. “I’ll go.”

  “I’ll go, too,” said Akiko.

  “You stay,” said Max. “I got this.”

  Akiko glanced at the monitors. “I’ll be watching.”

  Max saw the way Shane folded his arms now, confused and wary, and shot Akiko an incredulous look. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake sense into her. Shake her and shake her and let it slip into an embrace and bite into the soft of her neck.

  “My turn to scare the crap out of you,” said Shane. He touched a button and spoke into the mic. “Boo.”

  2.3

  Max followed Brayden out through the panel. The next room was an oblong lounge carpeted in orange and strip-carved into a conversation pit. It was a model of midcentury perfection, down to the white marble furniture and brass satellite chandelier above.

  There was a cajón, a parlor guitar, some odd percussion instruments.

  There were food supplies and glasses and so on, all neatly stacked.

  There was a wooden cargo box spilling with bottles of sparkling wine.

  Max grabbed glasses while Brayden reached for bottles. But the boy stopped. He picked at his silly UStackd? shirt, with its silly amateurish UStackd? logo. He had told Max about his ridiculous app idea before. That, and a few other ideas.

  Brayden now seemed to be working up to something.

  “I just wanted to say,” said Brayden.

  Max waited.

  “I just wanted to say I really appreciate this opportunity,” said Brayden. He sounded like he was reciting from a job hunter’s guide, and Max found it endearing.

  “I’ve learned so much and I feel like I’ve made friends for life, too, and after this is over I would love the continued opportunity to, for, continued, um.”

  Max set the glasses down and gave the poor kid a hug.

  “You are a valuable and important member of the team,” said Max.

  Brayden fought happy tears.

  “I have some projects in mind for the post–Vee-Zero era,” said Max. “You belong with us.”

  “Hell yeah,” said Brayden with great sincerity.

  “Let’s go get our drink on,” said Max.

  “Hundred percent,” said Brayden and he rushed to grab bottles.

  But Brayden paused, arms full. He stared and stared. It was clear the boy believed in Max with everything he had. It was a strange feeling, thought Max, having someone believe in you so.

  “You okay?” said Max.

  “It’s funny,” said Brayden. “I’ve been out of my house for what now, almost a month? And my parents haven’t even asked about me. Not once.”

  “Maybe there’s no signal on the beach they’re on, what’s-it-called.”

  “Tenerife. Dad gives me everything I could ever want or need, but really I think it’s to get me off his hands.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Really I think he wishes he and Mom never had a kid, ha,” said Brayden.

  “Dude—”

  “It’s probably why I don’t have a brother or sister, ha ha,” said Brayden.

  “Come on, man.”

  “Do you like your parents? Do you like your dad?”

  “I do. He drives me crazy, but I do,” said Max.

  “Does your dad give you approval and positive reinforcement and all that?”

  “He tries to in his own
weird way. How about your dad?”

  Brayden gave his cargo a shrug. “Every night before I fall asleep I get this surreal feeling, like I’m very small, like, super-duper small, so small I don’t exist. Every night.”

  Max did not know what to say.

  “Until I met you guys,” said Brayden.

  “Aw,” said Max.

  “I used to check my phone every second of every day, like, Who liked my shit? and What’s the weather in Tenerife? but not anymore. It’s been almost twelve whole hours now. I don’t even care that there’s no siggy up here.”

  “I’m really glad about that,” said Max. “And I’m sure your parents—”

  “I’m really glad about it, too. I’m psyched.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I have so many business ideas,” said Brayden. “Do you think they’re okay?”

  Max glanced at the UStackd? logo on his shirt. “They’re awesome.”

  Brayden laughed. “My arms are getting super tired.”

  “Come on,” said Max. His arms were full, too, so he pushed the panel open with his butt and motioned for Brayden to pass through.

  “Thanks,” said Brayden to Max. Once inside, he called out, “Get slizzered, bitches.”

  “Here comes the man,” Max could hear Shane say.

  “Hey, Bray Bray,” said Akiko.

  “Mister Brayden comes through again,” said Pilot.

  2.4

  Check it out,” said Shane. “Pilot’s got some superspy shit right here.”

  Pilot stood before an open steel suitcase. He spun it to show its contents: dozens of metal bands. Pilot took one, bent it to form a circle, and clipped it shut around his wrist. He put another around his other wrist. They were constructed from some sort of elastic interwoven metal and their shine reminded Max of centipede segments.

  “Fitness trackers?” said Max.

  “And so much more,” said Pilot. He unlocked his custom laptop with his fingerprint and began typing. Then he did something curious: his fingers lifted off the keyboard, typing at nothing but air. Yet the letters kept streaming on-screen.

  “Dude,” said Akiko.

  A teapot appeared, and when Pilot twisted his wrists it whirled to match the movements.

  “There’s, like, zero latency,” said Akiko.

  “Thank you,” said Pilot. “I am especially proud of that.”

  “What’s latency?” said Shane.

  “It’s when your internet is really fast,” said Brayden.

  “Not really,” said Max.

  “It’s the lag time between the movement of your hand and the computer response,” said Akiko.

  “Oh,” said Brayden and Shane.

  Akiko cuffed her own wrists to try it out. Another teapot appeared. She waved her hands about with wonder. “Very cool.”

  Shane cuffed his wrists. So did Brayden. When Brayden poured champagne for everyone, his teapot smoothly mimicked every move.

  “You could use these for telemedicine,” said Max. “Virtual reality, handicapped accessibility, remote construction, remote learning.”

  “Mister Max gets it,” said Pilot.

  “Of course he does,” said Akiko, gazing at Max. “He gets everything.”

  Max silently implored her to stop looking at him. And yet he wanted her to look at him forever.

  “So, Pilot,” said Max. “Are you demoing these bracelets to the incoming douche posse?”

  “Mhm, but they really are nothing more than a pretense. Practically speaking, they control access to parts of this smart facility. Our bracelets will let only us into the control room, for example, not our guests, so we must wear them during the event. I will tell our guests that the bracelets have been my secret project for my past three years in exile. They will eat it up. You will see.”

  Pilot winked.

  “See what?” said Max. “The downfall of Cal Peers?”

  “I am just saying you will see.”

  Max shared a glance with Akiko. What do you think Pilot really wants out of all this? she had asked, back on Glass Island.

  “What if someone decides to take one of these bad boys home with them in their luggage?” said Shane.

  “They have a kind of self-destruct mechanism that triggers if they fall unauthorized outside a certain range.”

  “What kind of self-destruct are we talking about?” said Akiko.

  “You will see.”

  “Youwillseeyouwillseeyouwillsee, my name is Pilot Markham,” sang Max.

  Max gave Pilot a warm punch on the shoulder, one that made Pilot stop as if paused. He smiled.

  “Look at you all,” said Pilot. “Just look at us.”

  Max smiled, too. For he felt things were heading to a single momentous achievement, and Max was already feeling nostalgic even as things were happening.

  He wanted Version Zero to end really, really well.

  The internet’s worst nightmare is for everyone to simply leave.

  Akiko touched a tiny side crown, and the metal bangle sprang apart to become a bar again.

  “Sweet,” said Akiko.

  Pilot aimed a wristband at a panel and clenched his fist like a little heart beating, and a panel opened.

  “Let us jam,” said Pilot. “And celebrate our biggest night together as a team.”

  They rose and clinked their glasses.

  “To Version Zero,” said Pilot.

  “Team Vee-Zero,” said Brayden.

  “To Max,” said Akiko, “for dreaming this whole thing up in the first place.”

  Max pushed up his Buddy Hollys and flashed a glance at Shane.

  “To friendship,” said Max.

  2.5

  Cold calculation,” sang Akiko. “That sinking sensation.”

  Max played with care, merely tapping the cajón. Akiko sang into nothing but the air before her—there was no microphone. Pilot played the parlor guitar. Brayden sat clutching a vibraslap, which he rattled maybe once every ten measures. The kid was drunk.

  In Brayden’s lap Shane had rested his head. He was drunk, too, and fast asleep.

  Before them sat a chrome bucket of small soju bottles set in a mountain of pristine ice harvested from the slope outside. Shot glasses tumbled nearby.

  As Max played, he found himself back in Playa Mesa. Back in Pilot’s basement that first strange night. There was no way of knowing that the path would have led him to this place. The five of them sat under the glow of the brass chandelier to form a sleepy tableau, the kind that reminded Max of his old college dorm. Intimate, tipsy, introspective. The night seemed to demand quiet, and so they offered quiet.

  Black peaks surrounded them beyond the glass.

  They finished the song and understood at once that it was time to go to bed. Max rose from the cajón and stretched.

  “Shane, baby,” said Akiko. “Why do you have to get so drunk?”

  She put a finger into his nostril and pulled to one side, stretching it open.

  “No,” said Shane, unmoving.

  Max walked his fingers across Shane’s forehead. “Time for bed,” he said.

  Shane lunged awake. “You guys are super annoying,” he said. He teetered, caught himself, teetered again.

  “I shew him,” said Brayden. “I’m gon show him, ggnss.” Brayden draped Shane’s arm across his shoulders, and together the two guided themselves out.

  Pilot rose and stretched. “Well.”

  Max looked at Pilot. Pilot looked at Akiko. Akiko looked at Max.

  “Big day tomorrow,” said Max.

  “I guess we should go to bed,” said Akiko.

  The bottles in the chrome bucket shifted and fell silent.

  “So, just to get this straight,” said Max. “We pull this off. Cody flies us out. Then he goes back to pick
up the guests and drop them off at the local airstrip.”

  “Yes,” said Pilot. “The house records are clean. We leave no trace.”

  “And then we go back to Playa Mesa.”

  “I suppose.”

  Pilot thought. Under the light he looked warm and pink and well crafted, like a detailed studio maquette. Until he moved, and Max was reminded once again that he was a living, breathing being.

  “The police, and definitely Cal Peers himself, will be searching hard for Version Zero after this,” said Pilot finally. “So I suppose we should all go our separate ways and lay low for a while. I suppose that would be the best plan.”

  “So I go back home,” said Max, “tell my parents camp went great, maybe go travel the world? I’ve always wanted to see Japan.”

  “We could go together,” said Akiko. She flinched. “Although Shane hated Japan.”

  “We should stay incommunicado,” said Pilot. “At least for a while.”

  Max decided to try the question: “What will you do?”

  “Oh,” said Pilot with a smile. “I will just vanish. But we will meet again. Don’t know where.”

  “Don’t know when,” said Max.

  “But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day,” sang the three.

  And that seemed to be a good place to leave things.

  2.6

  Pilot rose, bowed, and without a word bid them good night. He floated up and out of the oblong lounge and out of sight down the hall. Max could hear his door latch shut.

  Max was alone with Akiko now. He stared at the strings of Pilot’s parlor guitar hard and long enough to almost make them vibrate with sound.

  When Max blinked awake he saw that Akiko had crept to his side.

  Not saw. Felt.

  “Hey,” said Akiko.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “What?” said Max.

  She kissed him. It was the strangest sensation—slow and fast at the same time, as if he were a feather falling from the deep stratosphere. There was a warmth enveloping their breaths that he had never really ever known. There was a sudden purpose to the tiny placement of each fingertip, each palm, the press of his forearm against her back.