We Are Watching Eliza Bright

by A. E. Osworth

  She figures she’ll try to “Go Out” with her newfound Courage and Community-Induced Positive Attitude—not real out because that’s too dangerous but out on the internet in virtual reality where the consequences at least pretend to be imaginary—the problem is that there’s only one MMO with that capability—well two if We count that archery one but it’s not what Eliza would call a fully-fledged MMO—she takes five minutes to think it over while doodling with the light pen in a luminescent purple—if she plans to continue in the industry she can’t stay out of it forever—at some point she’ll have to go back and she figures The Time To Be Bold Is Now and as long as she doesn’t play as Circuit Breaker she figures she’ll enjoy it okay and there’s been enough distance and she can Create even more distance with a new body that she is not so attached to—she hopes

  The problem is solved almost as soon as she launches the program because We are set to automatically log in—We are not more careful because the data is everyone’s property and We are not more careful because the character is not reflective of any single one of Our desires and We are not more careful because to be perfectly honest all our energy went to Our upcycled closed-circuit security system that doesn’t give any data to the NYPD because it was a higher priority and even in Our extended state with Many Brains working on one thing there is still only so much bandwidth and this didn’t seem as Important

  Eliza makes a decision that We might describe as a Moral Grey Area but also it’s not one because it’s not as though We didn’t tell her to make herself at home—she lets it log on despite feeling a little bit weird about accessing a communal account that isn’t hers but reasons it is just left open for Anyone to use and Anyone must include guests not only the folks who live here and it’s probably the only option because her account is likely still shut down anyway because she told Preston not to give it back to her and when she thinks his name she feels her stomach turn to marbles and they roll around her body as Disparate Feelings—is it Longing? Regret? Guilt? Anger? all of them of course—Every Feeling under the sun and she pushes them back together to cohere her narrative as best she can and continues forth as an amalgamation of the Sixsterhood—Our Communal Superhero—as Tinker Taylor

  It takes Eliza a second to get used to Tinker Taylor’s vantage point because They (We) are almost unnaturally short—she looks down at Their (Our) hands and they are green and webbed with bulbous fingertips and Eliza grins with half her mouth and sets out toward a reflective building—a Joyful Curiosity replaces less pleasant feelings and what a good distraction it is to delve into Our Minds and Bodies this way because she knows—We all know—that a character says so much more about a person than they even realize—so what does a group Creation say about the Collective?

  She laughs when she gets to a place where she can properly see her whole reflection because it is evident We had good fun creating this character—Tinker Taylor looks like an X-Files-style alien—Their (Our) eyes are big and black all the way through and as Eliza waits and stares, the program takes over and processes little movements that happen when an avatar stands idle so Tinker Taylor blinks and green lids shutter over giant orbs and Their (Our) head tilts to the side like a puppy hearing a child’s distant whistle—They’re (We’re) dressed in loose mechanic’s overalls with wrenches and unnamable tools hanging from loops and pockets and bandoliers—Eliza thinks They’re (We’re) Adorable and so Safe—this body isn’t her body even though she is a passenger and that is a much better way to “go out” for the first time in—how many days? she doesn’t really remember because everything’s run together

  Eliza pulls up the stats overlay—Their (Our) alignment is Chaotic Good but that’s a given and They (We) haven’t played as long or as hard as Suzanne or Eliza so Their (Our) level is way lower—Tinker is a Darling but Occasional experiment and They (We) are multi-classed to reflect all our varied wants—it’s a very different way to look at building a character than Eliza is used to—Circuit Breaker has leveled up only in power over electricity and Chimera relies on a lot of body-bonuses to provide her well-rounded powers but Tinker’s primary class is “Inventor” and the big alien brain helps with it—the secondary class is “spy” and one more level in spy grants the first shape-shifting ability so Eliza decides she’ll do enough menial tasks to accumulate enough points so We can take another spy level if We want

  She’s just about to collapse the stats overlay when she sees that Tinker Taylor’s one and only friend—Our Suzanne—is logged in but not as Chimera—she is logged in as Suzanne and it is as We suspected but Eliza’s feeling is more along the lines of What The Ever-Loving Fuck so she selects the map—it’s as simple as pointing her hand down at it and pulling a trigger as though she is shooting herself in the foot and Suzanne is nowhere that Eliza recognizes and her brows furrow underneath the headset because it’s almost like she’s in a room entirely removed from the world of Windy City with nothing else around it

  She checks Tinker’s inventory and finds what she is looking for—a teleportation device—which are usually pricey but Inventors can make them—they only work for people in your friend list or already-visited teleportation hubs and so using the map she teleports to Suzanne’s location

  She blips from the City into a bare room with mirrored walls and reflected in every panel are two people having sex—it sends a jolt through Eliza’s body because she isn’t used to This Much Sex and without processing any more information she seeks a place to hide and to fumble with her teleportation device and bamf out before she’s noticed but after the initial wave of embarrassment and the urge to leave, the content of the image finally hits her and she drops her hands to her sides—the people having sex are pumping away doggy style and with every movement he makes she lurches forward and sinks back and it is so realistic and her hair—her long wavy hair—bounces and her mouth opens and glistens with spit that isn’t really there and her eyes look up to the ceiling and it looks like ecstasy—Eliza knows the animators did well but she couldn’t have imagined the almost photo-realistic full-sized bodies of Preston and Suzanne having sex in front of her when they’d tested the patch with lifeless grey mannequin characters

  She’s never heard the sounds before either because no one had gone this far during Circuit Breaker’s assault and that’s what sells it—the juxtaposition of what are clearly sex sounds with what is almost sex—it makes it into Unmistakable Carnal Fucking and it makes it into something like—Intimacy? Love? Both Suzanne and Preston are moaning and Preston is cursing over and over and We wonder if it is familiar in a way that sends anger and panic and the feeling of being discarded through Eliza’s veins in one sudden surge? We are not sure—it might be because plenty of bosses coerce their employees into having sex and perhaps she is also in love with Our Suzanne and perhaps it is Both And More And Otherwise but We are not sure so We shouldn’t speculate—Eliza drops the teleportation device from her limp hand as she accidentally hits the release button and it falls end over end slowly and clatters to the ground—Our Suzanne hears the noise and her face turns toward the source of the sound but her facial expression does not change—her eyes still stare upward and her mouth remains slack because it is only a simulation after all—it is Very Creepy

  “Oh God—folks come on get the fuck out—I—” but Eliza doesn’t hear the rest because she logs off and leaves the teleportation device behind—a Cinderella’s slipper for a newer age

  Chapter One Hundred One

  When Our Suzanne bangs down the stairs and bursts into Our Solstice Tree Decorating her mouth open and ready to explain herself and beg us not to tell her friend, Eliza is already sitting there with her lips pursed and Our Suzanne says “Oh! you’re out!”

  “Yup”

  And even though not one single head turns toward the two Our Entire Attention is focused on the pair—We continue to string cyberpunk lights that We hacked together from spare parts and test strands and throw switches on a truly massive tree that We sized to remain undwarf
ed by our warehouse’s high ceilings—it is a brilliant display of electrical engineering with a large crescent moon adorning the top and soon We will light it and Everyone will clap but We are stalling in order to watch the Drama play out and Hold Space for conflict and so the two can equalize before the Finale so that they might truly enjoy it with Us—We don’t want a temporary fight to mar an otherwise Beautiful Community Tradition and if waiting an extra hour would prevent it why not? We make the motions of tree decorating without making progress

  “I’m glad” Our Suzanne says in a way where We can tell she isn’t really glad

  Eliza stands and tries to figure out how to signal to Suzanne that she’s been caught out—she wipes her hands on her borrowed Hand-Sewn Winter-Themed Pajama Pants which We lent her and were politely (perhaps too politely but nonetheless gracefully) accepted

  “Suzanne I—” and she pauses because unsure of where to go next and she wonders if she should outright say it rather than drop hints? what’s the emotionally mature way to react to your best friend having virtual reality sex with another consenting adult with whom you have a contentious and confusing and charged (and potentially sexual) relationship? how do you say that it hurts your feelings and it makes you feel discarded and distant? that you are hurt because you weren’t told and weren’t asked and were suffering while she had such fun? do you yell? do you cry? it’s strange waters to navigate and We’d be equally lost even though We are so practiced at Peaceful Conflict Resolution—the difference is that We are usually clear on what We want and what We feel even if We aren’t clear on what has happened but that is because We have a High Emotional Intelligence and Eliza isn’t clear on those things At All and We can see the journey on her face and it is one of pain and meta-pain when she’s not clear on what the pain is about and it is in this moment that Our Suzanne understands that something intensely personal is about to go down in public and that she will be Embarrassed in front of Us if it does because Suzanne is an intensely private person—even with Us, her people

  “We’re about to start putting decorations up!” she says too brightly “Here—have they shown you my favorites yet?” and she leans down and We think she picks a box at random but maybe they are in fact her favorites—they are soft golden stars made of felt and sewn with basic straight stitches around the edges and hung from deep blue ribbons and Our Suzanne holds one out and when Eliza doesn’t take it she loops it around an errant finger (frozen in mid-gesture) such that Eliza looks decorated herself—“And have you tried the gingerbread yet?” Our Suzanne plows ahead “The Sixsterhood has—We have—a mean gingerbread recipe”—she reaches down and grabs one of the decorated Genderless Gingerbread People and moves it toward Eliza’s face so fast that Eliza reacts without thinking and she opens her mouth and closes her teeth around the Gingerbread Person’s head—it is a sight to behold—the ornament still swinging from Eliza’s finger and gingerbread feet sticking from her mouth while she looks at Our Suzanne with a Sourness Heretofore Reserved For Her Enemies

  Eliza lays the ornament back on a box lid and bites the head off the Gingerbread Person and as she swallows it down it forms a sticky lump in her throat like she’s trying to ingest wallpaper paste and she lays the headless snack down right next to the ornament and she says “I’m not feeling super well again—I think I might go to bed?” she turns her attention to Us “I’ll see you all for breakfast—thank you—for including me I mean” and We murmur Comforting Noises that sound like Yes Yes Enough For One Day but contain no actual syllables and no words in any language—only Concerned-Satisfied-Nurturing sounds

  Once Eliza is up the stairs (the elevator earlier returned to its original spot) Our Suzanne turns to Us and asks “Come on guys, who told her?”

  We blink because while we Know now We don’t Really Know because We didn’t Experience it—We have pieced it together but We haven’t Seen it with Our eyes like Eliza has

  Told her what?

  Suzanne blanches

  Chapter One Hundred Two

  Eliza trudges down to breakfast after a largely sleepless night of wondering what it means that she is jealous and betrayed and angry? she knows what Our Suzanne did wasn’t explicitly out of bounds and it wasn’t explicitly sex and yet she feels this bubbling soup of feeling—We wonder if mad is entirely the correct descriptor in this moment?—and perhaps We should focus on what We can absolutely tell by looking—She Is Tired—We know that for sure

  Our Suzanne also hasn’t slept very well because she feels embarrassed for being caught and embarrassed for being embarrassed and stupid for sleeping with her boss because she should know better and she doesn’t think it’s sex either and she feels as though she has done something wrong even though she cannot quite pinpoint what the wrong action was but she knows she wouldn’t have hidden it if it didn’t feel wrong on some level

  It is Christmas Eve Morning and We sit at the long table eating vegetarian sausage and vegan egg substitute and facon bacon—It is a feast! and Our Suzanne is already seated at the table as Eliza joins and their eyes lock and they cast them back down again at their breakfasts—Eliza butters toast

  It becomes Unbearable—the jovial conversation begins to strain under the weight of strange behavior and Our smiles no longer extend past Our mouths to Our eyes

  Finally—

  Okay enough—you two go downstairs and work it out

  Yeah We gave you time yesterday to process your conflict and regroup but you didn’t take it

  Better to handle it now than let it fester!

  You’re killing Our Breakfast Vibe

  Do you need a Powerful Anger Circle or—?

  And because the Collective voice is powerful Eliza and Suzanne oblige

  For a while they simply stare at each other and then Eliza asks “Why’d you sleep with Preston?”

  “Oh come on” Our Suzanne says sourly “I didn’t sleep with Preston—it’s a game—”

  “Well the noises you were making”—and Eliza pauses as she realizes tears are beginning to leak from her squinted eyes—“suggest otherwise”

  Suzanne doesn’t have a response to that (not a real one) so she counters with “It’s a goddamn game Eliza—our bodies weren’t in the same room—I just needed to blow off some fucking steam and it’s not like the world is rife with people I can fucking talk to right now”

  “Suzanne—you are my best friend and we’re locked in a warehouse together—this is—this is mean—there’s a Kind Way to do this and an Unkind Way and this is Unkind—Unkind all the way to the middle”

  “Well if you want to talk about a Kind Way and an Unkind Way you’ve been treating me Unkindly since you got here”

  “Treating you—how even? how even do you fucking figure?” Eliza’s vocal volume begins to escalate and it echoes on the high ceilings

  “I open my home to you—I agree that yes I can’t go to work because likely The Inspectre is watching me too—We know that’s true! but instead of—I don’t know—actually talking to me and hanging out with me in my own fucking House-Turned-Prison you leave me to field questions from the Sixsterhood who all have Opinions about the way this should be handled! I hate other people’s opinions! other people’s opinions are my day job!”

  “Oh fuck off Suzanne do you think I did any of this On Purpose? do you think I would have chosen this for you or for me?”

  “Well what you did choose to do is make me serve you food and made my roommates build literal accommodations for you—” Our Suzanne walks over to the giant swaths of fabric covering the warehouse windows and they are floor-to-ceiling pieces slowly becoming art installations “—all because of baseless irrational fears—No One can find you here! No One! and Not Once did you say thank you to them or to me—Do you know—” and she pauses to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand because she’s crying now too “—Do you know what it takes for me to do this? Eliza I’m an intensely private person—I don’t even like having my address on forms for work—There’s a r
eason that neither you nor Devonte—” her voice cracks when she says his name “—have ever been here before”

  “Well first off if you didn’t want me here you shouldn’t have offered”

  “It’s not like I don’t fucking care about your safe—”

  “Let me finish—Second these fears are completely rational or have you forgotten the Dog incident already? fucking long memory you’ve got there”

  “No one is going to find you—”

  “He’s watching you too Suzanne! you already agreed! We know it—there’s no question here! and you just said it—you said your address is on forms for work! well we know how secure Fancy Dog is so excuse me if I’m feeling less than comforted right now and finally—” Eliza walks over to the huge expanse of fabric—it is a white muslin next to three entire bolts of some flower-patterned thin brown fabric like something out of the 1970s that has resurfaced in the era of slow fashion and fad thrift stores and each little bloom is so tiny one might confuse it for polka dots—Eliza looks up to the ceiling where it’s taped intensely but not so intensely that it couldn’t be severed for Dramatic Effect “—finally this—I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask for the Sixsters to do anything!” she gathers the fabric in her two fists and from all the way upstairs We hear Our Suzanne whimper behind her and We can almost feel her put her hand out in protest but That’s Art Babe-y Nothing Is Permanent “And I don’t need it! I don’t need it anyway! I am fine!” she begins to sit her weight down and pull as hard as she can and instead of the tape giving way the weave on the flimsy fabric does and she tears through it like The Hulk—all the while screaming “I am fine! I am just fucking fine! I am fine!” It feels so good to lose it—to really truly lose it—and to move her whole body—to make big arcs through the air with her arms and to windmill ferociously and to pump her legs and to throw what We could only consider to be a temper tantrum and see THIS IS WHY WE HAVE THE POWERFUL ANGER CIRCLE