The Block

by Ben Oliver

  “What do you mean you feel weird?” I ask. “You can’t feel anything at all.”

  “No, I mean my head, my mind feels weird.”

  “Okay,” I say, “I’ll see you on the outside.”

  The elevator arrives and I step inside as Malachai walks toward the exit. I see him standing at the ornate doors, looking at the patterns in the frosted glass, before the gate closes and I’m taken upward.

  As I stand in the rickety old elevator and watch the numbers light up as we pass floor after floor, I feel a sense of calmness come over me, some kind of tranquil dislocation, a sense of safety.

  I smile at the old elevator attendant; his perpetual grin widens minutely.

  “I hope it doesn’t fall this time,” I say, and the old attendant gives an almost-imperceptible nod in reply.

  The elevator comes to a rocking halt and I exit, walking toward Molly’s room. More strange video game characters stare at me from cracks in their doors; cockroaches scuttle and scatter as I approach.

  I knock on Molly’s door and wait, listening to the creaks and groans of this strange place.

  The door opens and Molly smiles up at me.

  “Hi, Luka,” she says, and some words flash up in my mind, something about getting out quickly, but I can’t quite grab them.

  “Molly, listen,” I say, “I’m sorry about … about Dad. And I’m sorry you had to find out that way.”

  “Oh, that,” she says, her smile faltering and then reappearing on her face. “It’s terrible, terrible news, but I think I knew, deep down, that there’s no way he could have survived.”

  This is all wrong, I think. Why is she suddenly so peaceful? How has she so quickly come to terms with … with … ? But the thought trails off as my own sense of calm returns.

  “This whole thing is so terrible, isn’t it?” I say.

  “Terrible,” she replies, “just horrible and terrible. So many people dead.”

  “So many,” I reply, and way, way back in my mind alarm bells are ringing; something is wrong.

  Once you’re in … get out quickly … get out quickly … get out …

  “I think,” I say, my voice so placid, “I think we have to go, Molly.”

  “Go? Why would we go?” she asks. “Everything is so nice here. All our friends are here.”

  “All our friends are here …” I repeat, and then I think of Pander and Igby and Akimi and Pod.

  “All our friends,” Molly repeats, “and we can dance and listen to the music, and be with our friends.”

  “Molly,” I say, my voice now slow and dreamy, “do you remember what you told me when you got into the chamber?”

  “No,” she replies, smiling. “What did I say?”

  “I can’t remember … get out, I think. I think you said get out quickly.”

  “Why would I say that?” she asks, a look of concern carving itself into her face. “We’re safe here, Luka; we’re safe and we have everything we need.”

  “But me and Malachai,” I say, pointing toward the elevator, “we were going to leave.”

  “Why?”

  I think about this, I really think about it. “I can’t remember.”

  “It’s so dangerous out there, Luka. The real world took our mother and our father; it killed everyone we love. We’re safe in here, though. Safe in Purgatory.”

  “You’re right,” I say, and the faraway voice is too far away to hear now. “You’re right. We’re safe in here. I have to get Malachai before he leaves! It’s dangerous out there.”

  I turn and try to run back toward the elevator, but running seems like a reckless thing to do, so I walk until I’m at the elevator and then I wait patiently for it to arrive.

  I ride down in smiling silence, listening to the jazz music growing louder as we get to the lobby. I exit and wonder why I’m there.

  To stop Malachai from leaving, I think, and nod to myself.

  I look to the hotel’s double doors, the ones that lead to the way out of Purgatory, and I see Malachai still standing there. I walk over to him.

  “Malachai,” I say.

  “Oh, Luka,” he replies. “Hello.”

  “You’re planning on leaving?” I ask.

  “I was … I think … I’m just looking at the patterns on this glass,” he says, pointing to the golden design of interwoven vines that adorns the glass. “So complicated.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell him.

  “Mmm,” he replies.

  And we stand there for some time admiring the lines.

  “Should we go and listen to the music?” I ask.

  “The music, yes,” Malachai says, turning to me and smiling. “It really grows on you.”

  And we wander off toward the bar, activating the receptionist as we pass, who welcomes us to the Purgatory Hotel and tells us that it’s a great place to stay.

  In a rare moment of clarity, I try to figure out how long Malachai and I have been in this place.

  Time is a hard thing to track when you’re never tired, never hungry, and the sun never rises.

  I’ve been speaking to this girl, Eloise, about how she joined the Missing six months before Happy sent the terrible, horrible chemicals down in the rain, and how they survived by being dead and in Purgatory, and how things seemed different back then, but she can’t remember how they were different and isn’t that funny? And it is funny. She had fought in the Battle of Midway Park, but that all seems so reckless now, and so futile and so silly and so dangerous.

  Before that I was dancing with a boy named Alix who is nineteen and was a clone in the vault with Molly and Day and Shion, and he was saying that in the vault they talked about how they could destroy Happy and how they could win the war, and doesn’t that sound silly now? And it does sound silly. It’s clear now that the only way to win this war is not to fight this war.

  And before that I had spent some time sitting on one of the lavish chaise lounges in the lobby with an older man named Sylvain who was a Smiler in the outside world, but some of the Missing captured him and got him into Purgatory. He told me has no memory of being a Smiler, just that he had felt really warm one morning and gotten really angry about something, and then it all went blank.

  Some time ago I was sitting at the booth with Dr. Price, who really is a genius when you think about it. To offer all these people a beautiful, peaceful sanctuary in which they can be happy until the end comes. And we don’t have to fear the end because it won’t be some terrible, awful death at the hands of Happy. And we will never become hosts, we will just go away, just cut to black. And that is so beautiful.

  And now Shion is here, and Shion looks so happy here, and Shion is talking about how good the music is here, and she’s right, the music is so nice.

  “I just think that the best thing to do is to listen to the music, and dance, and be joyful, because that’s how we win. That’s how we beat Happy, by being joyful,” Shion says, both of us leaning against the bar.

  “We beat Happy by being happy,” I say, and we both laugh.

  I watch Malachai swaying with an older lady on the dance floor, a vacant grin on his face.

  This is sanctuary, I think. This is home.

  “Shion,” I say, still grinning, “I think I’m ready to check in.”

  “You haven’t checked in yet?” Shion says, grinning blankly. “You must check in, Luka. Joining us in Purgatory is the best way to beat Happy.”

  I nod and my smile grows even wider. I touch Shion on the hand before leaving. Neither of us feels it.

  I leave the bar and make my way to the check-in desk, where the receptionist comes to life.

  “Welcome to the Purgatory Hotel. Don’t let the name fool you; it’s a great place to stay. Would you like to check in?”

  “Yes,” I say, smiling at the NPC, who smiles back.

  “Excellent, we’ll have you relaxing in your room in no time, Mr.…”

  “Kane,” I say. “Luka Kane.”

  “Mr. Kane,” the recept
ionist replies, and then the smile drops away from his face and he grabs me by the arm. “Get out, Mr. Kane! Get out while you still can!”

  I feel a moment of shock rip through me.

  “What?” I ask, pulling my arm away.

  The smile reappears on the receptionist’s face. “As you know, Mr. Kane, we have the hotel bar, the smoking room, our wellness center is closed due to a rat infestation, room service is available at all times, and if you have any issues at all, don’t hesitate to call down to Reception.”

  “What did you just say?” I ask, the receptionist’s words triggering a memory of something … something important.

  “I said, if you have any issues at all, don’t hesitate to call down to—”

  “No, before that,” I say. “You said, ‘Get out while you still can.’ ”

  “He’s an NPC,” a voice comes from behind me, startling me. I turn around and Dr. Price is there, watching me. “A stowaway from the original program, a piece of rogue code. He’s merely delivering lines from the game. They have no meaning.”

  I know Dr. Price’s words to be true, and yet something is troubling me.

  “There’s something—” I start.

  “Let it go, Luka. Whatever it is, let it go. Nothing can be wrong. You are safe here.”

  I nod and feel the calmness come over me once more. “I know,” I tell him, “I know.”

  I turn back to the receptionist, who hands me a key to room 1616.

  * * *

  The elevator made it to my floor without incident.

  I’ve been sitting here for some time.

  It’s hard to tell how long.

  It’s peaceful here.

  Which is nice.

  But …

  I can’t shake this feeling that something isn’t right.

  I know it’s silly.

  The only way to win this war is not to fight at all.

  I try, sometimes, to think of what came before Purgatory.

  I know there was something. Some people. Friends maybe …

  But it’s hard to remember.

  One day all of this will cut to black.

  But we’re all safe until then.

  We’re all safe.

  The elevator fell today.

  It was GAME OVER for me and Alix and Jo-Ray and a lady I don’t know.

  Just a minor irritation really.

  I’m with Malachai in the bar now; we’re sitting at a booth. We’re speaking about the music the band is playing and all the nice clothes that the people are wearing and how friendly everyone is all the time.

  “Placid,” Malachai says after a long silence.

  “I’m sorry?” I reply.

  “Placid,” Malachai repeats. “Docile, that’s what Purgatory is. And that’s a good thing. Fighting is so horrible. War is so violent.”

  “Yes,” I agree, and smile, but something flickers in my mind once again, that irritating voice that won’t die. I have a flash of a memory: Malachai standing atop a military tank in the middle of a crowd of Alts, ready to die, saying something like what a way to go out. “Malachai, this place is good, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

  “It’s just … sometimes I try to think about what came before Purgatory, and I’m sure it was something important, you know?”

  Malachai’s eyes focus on the pixelated table of the booth. “We were in the Loop,” he mutters, “and then Happy made everyone sick. We got out of the Loop … then … I can’t remember.”

  “I can’t remember either,” I say, and there’s a faraway part of me that finds this troubling.

  The band finishes one song and begins another.

  “Oh, I like this one,” Malachai says, the indifferent smile returning to his face.

  And I like this song too, but I don’t stay to listen.

  I get up from the booth and walk into the lobby. I stand in front of the receptionist and listen intently to his words.

  “Welcome to the Purgatory Hotel. Don’t let the name fool you; it’s a great place to stay. Would you like to check in?”

  “Yes,” I reply.

  “Oh, it seems we already have you on our books, Mr. Kane, but please continue to enjoy the amenities of the …” The receptionist looks around, sees that no one is watching, and leans in close. “Get out, Mr. Kane! Get out while you still can!”

  I back away from the desk until the receptionist resets to his former position, and then I walk up to him once again.

  “Welcome to the Purgatory Hotel. Don’t let the name fool you; it’s a great place to stay. Would you like to check in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, it seems we already have you on our books, Mr. Kane, but please continue to enjoy the amenities of the … Get out, Mr. Kane! Get out while you still can!”

  Get out.

  “Everything okay, Luka?” Molly asks, coming down the stairs.

  I hold eye contact with the NPC receptionist. “Yes,” I reply. “Yes, everything is okay.”

  Finally, I turn to face my sister, who walks arm in arm with a woman I don’t recognize. The two kiss each other on the cheek before the woman walks through to the bar.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Luka. I missed you so much while you were gone.”

  “I’m glad I’m here too,” I tell her.

  “And one day, we’ll go out there in the real world and get Dad. We’ll bring him back here.”

  “Molly,” I say, holding her arms, “Dad is dead, remember?”

  She frowns and then sighs. “Oh yes, I remember.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not to worry. Life goes on.”

  And just then the lights in the hotel cut out completely. We’re left in darkness for a few seconds before they come back on, but when they do they’re glowing red.

  “What does this mean?” I ask, looking around at the lobby, now bathed in red.

  “It’s not Mosquitoes,” she says. “This warning means something has tripped the alarms on the ground. Someone or something is coming. I should go check it out.”

  “Who will it be?” I ask, but as I do, the avatar of my sister fades away.

  Someone or something is coming.

  “Someone is coming,” I say aloud, and then walk up to the receptionist once again.

  “Welcome to the Purgatory Hotel. Don’t let the name fool you; it’s a great place to stay. Would you like to check in?”

  “Yes,” I tell the NPC.

  “Oh, it seems we already have you on our books, Mr. Kane, but please continue to enjoy the amenities of the …” The receptionist looks around, sees that no one is watching, and leans in close. “Get out, Mr. Kane! Get out while you still can!”

  Get out.

  Someone is coming.

  The voice in my head is trying to tell me something, trying to scream at me.

  Get out. Get out. Get out.

  I turn and face the door of the Purgatory Hotel.

  Get out.

  Once you’re in there, get out quickly.

  Molly said that.

  Molly said that before she died and came to Purgatory.

  Get out quickly.

  “I have to get out,” I say to myself. “I have to get out of here. Someone’s coming. Someone is coming. Igby is coming!”

  And memories rush back to me.

  Pod and Pander and Igby and Sam and Akimi.

  And Kina.

  I don’t know how, but somehow my friends know we’re in trouble, and they’re coming for us.

  I run to the bar, where Malachai sways slowly, alone on the dance floor. I grab him and drag him toward the lobby.

  “Hey, Luka, relax.”

  “Hurry,” I say, pulling him along with me. I can feel the memories fading again, feel them trying to drift away on undulating waves, but I hold Kina’s face in my mind.

  “What are you doing?” Malachai asks, a note of irritation in his voice.

  I stop at the double doors an
d turn to him.

  “They’re coming for us, Malachai,” I say. “Pander and Pod and Igby, all of them. They’re coming to find the Missing, and when they do they’ll be taken into Purgatory, and you can’t leave Purgatory.”

  “Pander …” Malachai says, recognition in his eyes, “and Igby … oh my god, Wren! Luka, what have we done? We have to go.”

  “Surely you’re not leaving our little community?” Dr. Price’s voice comes from behind us.

  “Why the fuck are you always creeping up on me?” I ask.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” the doctor replies, smiling, “but I couldn’t help overhearing you two talking about leaving.”

  “That’s right,” Malachai says, his voice still dreamy, but there’s a note of determination in it now.

  “But, gentlemen, I thought we’d discussed this. Nothing good can come of leaving this sanctuary.”

  “But they’re coming for us,” I say.

  “Who is coming for you?” Etcetera Price asks.

  “Our …” But the memory is fading away again.

  “Fuck this,” Malachai says, and kicks the doctor square in the chest, sending his avatar flying backward toward the reception desk.

  “Malachai!” I say, shocked at my friend’s actions.

  “Shut up,” he replies, grabbing me by the wrist and shoving open the double doors.

  There is nothing on the other side, just an infinite blackness that swallows us.

  I can feel the blood being pumped back into my veins.

  The numbness leaves my body as the liquid in the chamber drains away. I begin to breathe again, my lungs unfurling like parade balloons inside my chest.

  I’m cold. Very cold.

  The chamber spins open as the needles retract from my legs and I fall to the floor of the arcade, shaking and trying to get used to this real world: no pixels, no NPCs, and I can feel again.

  I see Malachai on the floor beside me; he rolls onto his back and begins to scream in pain, his hands reaching up to the place where his eyes used to be.

  I crawl over to him and place a hand on his chest.

  “Malachai,” I say, my voice rasping, “are you okay?”

  “It hurts!” he cries, and as his hands move away from the holes in his face, I can see the bruised flesh and torn skin.