Don't Read the Comments

by Eric Smith

  “Far away from that thing!” she yells back. “Let’s try to make it to the ships. We can—”

  Another roar interrupts her, and a beast that looks strikingly like the first lumbers out in front of her, jaws open. The teeth are a weird yellow-orange color, the inside of the mouth blue. It snaps its jaws and snarls, pushing its feet angrily against the ground. D1V stops running and turns in my direction, and I can hear her sigh through the headset. On-screen, she somehow looks crestfallen, even though I know that’s impossible.

  I finally catch up to her, glancing back to see the beast that was chasing me slow down. It lets loose a roar and glares at us.

  “Do you think they’ll—” I start.

  “Can you record?” she asks quickly.

  “Well sure, I think I—” I look down at my keyboard for the correct button combinations.

  “Do it. Do it quick. This is going to be awesome.” Her tone has shifted, a hint of joy in it now as I tap a few keys. A bit of orange text appears in the bottom corner of my screen, reading Video Capture. “Are you recording yet?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Great. You capture that one, I’ll capture this one. As great as VR is, recording on it just isn’t the same, and I could use whatever you’re able to get,” she says. I watch as her inventory menu pops up in front of her, and she selects an item I don’t quite recognize. A grenade-looking thing materializes in her hand, bright red with bits of yellow striped across it.

  I hear her laugh.

  “Watch this.”

  And with that, she throws the grenade at the beast closest to her, a trail of yellow smoke pluming out in its wake. It hits the monster with a soft pop, and a cloud of the pale gold mist erupts from the red canister. The monster roars and shakes, taking a few steps back, snorting and stomping its feet toward whatever she just tossed over there.

  “Move it, Aaron!” D1V yells, darting off to the side. I follow her, just in time to avoid being trampled by the beast that was chasing us. It rushes forward, its large feet crashing against the earth, lumbering toward the other monster, who is still reeling in the pale yellow smoke.

  “What is that?!” I shout, trying to make myself heard over the ensuing battle as the two creatures tear into each other.

  “It’s a Creature Lure,” she explains, relief in her voice. “It’s a pretty basic item you can buy early in the game. You use it to attract a monster to another monster, or a monster to a ship or person. You should use one while fighting your friends, make something attack them. I bet it would be funny.”

  I can almost hear the wink in her tone, and I find myself grinning like a fool.

  One of the beasts falls, and some of the fern-like trees come tumbling down with it. The remaining monster bites at the fallen one, presumably eating it, but I have no idea. Those animations aren’t really as in-depth as everything else, and the movements look more like an improv actor pretending to eat something.

  “That...that is awesome,” I say.

  “Hell yeah, it is.” D1V glances at me for a moment, and I wonder if she’s smiling off-screen. “Let’s get back to looking for resources. You got all that, right? The recording?”

  “Oh yeah, definitely,” I say, checking quickly to make sure that I do.

  “Great.” Another menu materializes in front of D1V as she turns to walk away. Her avatar’s fingers tap at something in the menu, making little lights blip on and off. It looks like an options screen, the sort you load up when you—

  Oh.

  No way.

  With a soft bloop, a message pops up on my screen, pale orange against the background of the actual game.

  You have received a Friend Request.

  Would you like to add:

  D1V

  to your friends list?

  You can delete a contact whenever you choose.

  [YES] [NO]

  I can’t help myself. I click on D1V to see her profile. Though I’ve never looked her up or anything before—I’m not a creep—I think it’s safe to assume she’s private and unsearchable on the game. But now that she’s sent me a friend request, I can look.

  If anyone loads up my profile, there’s a lot of in-game nonsense. Planets I’ve claimed, people I’ve explored with, achievements and the like. If you’re friends with me, it displays where I’m from, my social media links, and all. It’s pretty public, but now, thinking about everything D1V’s been through these past few days with the trolls and the attack in the game, I’m wondering if maybe I should shut down that stuff—especially once I see how sparsely populated her profile is.

  She’s eighteen, so just a year older than me, but that’s all I’m getting out of it in terms of personal information. She’s got her public social media links to Twitter and her Glitch stream, which I expected, plus her in-game email address—which everyone on here has—deeonevee@reclaimthesun.com.

  But beyond that?

  Nothing.

  It’s as if she doesn’t exist in real life. But I suppose that’s the point.

  I click yes, and the dialogue tree disappears. Suddenly I hear D1V laughing on the other end.

  “What?” I ask. “What is—”

  “Nice profile you got here, Aaron.” She chuckles. “Planet Butts. Planet Hamtaro. Planet Ryan Is My Lord and King. Planet I’m Bad at This Game & Should Feel Bad. Is your email address really LauraShouldMarryMe@reclaimthesun.com? Who’s Laura?”

  “Oh my God, I am going to murder Ryan,” I groan, putting my face in my hands. “That’s...that’s not it. Sometimes we log in to each other’s accounts to mess with one another. And by we, I mean mostly Ryan does it.” I open my profile and fix it, changing it back to aaron@reclaimthesun.com.

  “Wow. Your name as your email address. That’s impressive, Mr. Day One. Most people usually have a bunch of numbers or something,” she says, and I can hear the smirk in her voice. “Did you get all your precious collectibles with that Day One copy?”

  “Don’t judge me,” I bluster, trying not to think about the pewter spaceship sculptures that came with the special edition, or the rocket-shaped keychain I’ve got on my keys right now.

  “If I was going to judge you, I’d judge you by your location, Pennsylvania.”

  Again, I can hear the smile in her voice, and I glare at the screen. Where she’s from isn’t listed, though I get why.

  “Hey, after we sign off, can you send me that footage?” D1V asks. “I’ll totally credit you in the video and give you a shout-out—”

  “Can you mention ManaPunk?” I ask, blurting it out without really thinking. But I might as well take a shot—Jason will love the publicity, and it would look good for me, too.

  “What? Why?”

  “I work with Jason Pherlin, the founder?” I say, trying to be careful. I’d love a chance to get the game company out there on a major channel, and show that I’m doing work for them, but the last thing I want to do is ruin this new in-game friendship here. “Doing copyediting, some light story writing and stuff. No pressure if you can’t. It would just... That would be really amazing.”

  “Oh okay, that’s cool,” she says. “I can do that. Aaron from ManaPunk. Done.”

  I’m grateful that it’s not my face on the stream, because I’m smiling way too big right now. My face hurts. I can feel it all the way up in my ears.

  “So...what now?” I ask.

  “Resources,” she reminds me. A blip pops up on my map. Now that we’re friends in the game, I can see where she’s planning to go.

  We’re a party. This is awesome.

  “Let’s head up toward the water, see what we can find. And then I gotta sign off, put the video together.”

  “Sounds good,” I say. “And I’ll email you those files right after.”

  “Perfect,” she replies, pausing for a beat. “You um...busy tomorrow?” />
  “Not really, it’s the summer and I—”

  “Then let’s do this again. Maybe around 8:00?” she suggests, and my heart is beating madly in my chest. This is so cool. “You’re a...well, a good partner.”

  There’s another bloop noise, and a message pops up on my screen.

  You have received an Exploration Request.

  Would you like to EXPLORE with D1V at:

  8:00 p.m. EST, July 2

  [YES] [NO] [RESCHEDULE]

  Fighting the urge to dance around in my computer chair, I click Yes.

  Reclaim the Sun: Chat Application

  AARON: Hey, are you online?

  D1V: I’m always online.

  AARON: Oh, cool.

  D1V: Hello?

  D1V: Aaron? Mr. Day One?

  AARON: Hey! Sorry, parents. Are we still doing some exploring?

  D1V: Sure. I won’t be videoing this one though. Just grinding. No one cares about that.

  D1V: ?

  D1V: Are you even there?

  AARON: Yes! Hey! Sorry, yeah. Parents again. I’m in, obviously.

  D1V: What’s their deal?

  AARON: Parents? Mom’s a doctor, dad runs the practice office. Trying desperately to get me to take over.

  D1V: Wow. Cliché much?

  AARON: Tell me about it. Mom has me running the office for the summer, but I guess... I don’t entirely mind it.

  D1V: Oh?

  AARON: Dad didn’t have it easy when he moved to the States. He’s in his 40s but he might as well be 60.

  D1V: Ah.

  AARON: Yeah.

  AARON: Heavy stuff for a video game chat, right?

  AARON: I promise to be all about resources, crystals, and building materials from now on.

  D1V: No, no. It’s nice. I don’t get out much these days.

  AARON: No? I feel like you must be popular, what with the video channel and all.

  D1V: Hah! Right. Popular.

  D1V: When you spend all your time trying to support your family and save for college...

  D1V: Well, the offline world sort of fades away.

  AARON: Wow we are GOOD at lighthearted chats.

  Reclaim the Sun: Chat Application

  D1V: Up for some grinding?

  AARON: Hey! Yeah, I’m around. Are you always up this late?

  D1V: It’s late?

  D1V: It’s like 10PM how old are you?

  AARON: I’m more of a morning person!

  D1V: Why don’t you pop on a VR set this time? It’s cool when you’re with someone in that.

  AARON: Ah, sorry, I don’t have one.

  D1V: Really? I thought with the game development stuff you’d be all over that.

  AARON: Eh, it doesn’t really pay that much? Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day.

  AARON: The only reason I can game on a PC is because I built the thing out of parts I found.

  D1V: Found?

  AARON: In the garbage. We live in kind of a wealthy area. What about you?

  D1V: Not wealthy.

  AARON: Are you on the East Coast too?

  D1V: Let’s talk about something else.

  AARON: Oh. Sorry.

  D1V: I’m just careful about what I dish out, that’s all. You didn’t do anything wrong.

  D1V: Aaron?

  D1V: Still there?

  AARON: Yeah sorry, I’m ready! Let’s go.

  7

  DIVYA

  I walk down the PATH station stairs, the steps shockingly long and diving deep into the ground, to make my way from Jersey City to Hoboken. The walls are lined with a cream ceramic tile that they somehow manage to keep clean, despite the grit of the train tracks and underground tunnels right at the end of all this. People make their way up and down the escalators, walking, running, even skipping steps, super busy for no real reason. You could just stand there and let it take you, but instead, everyone rushes to save those extra thirty seconds.

  I take the stairs to avoid it all.

  It’s easy to get lost while weaving in and out of the small sea of people—though it’s better than the oceans of people that fill the area on the weekends, and during the morning and late-afternoon work rush. I adjust my hoodie as the crowds surround me, as if someone might spot me. But that’s just it—no one knows who I am. No one cares, outside of gaming.

  Here, I’m safe. I’m not an avatar, a social media profile people can target.

  I think about that email from the Vox Populi. The photo of my address. I wonder if whoever sent it actually saw me going home one day, or if they just took a screenshot using Google Maps, figuring out my address the way just about any half-decent hacker can using the Internet. My mind drifts to Aaron, and how unfair it is that he just gets to be himself in those public online spaces. He lists his town, his birthday, even his last name on his profile.

  Hell, his friends even have his password.

  I tug my hoodie a little closer as I hustle through the turnstile and make my way to a waiting train, the door closing with a friendly chime behind me as I enter the air-conditioned space. I grab hold of one of the poles in the train car and hold on tight to the cool metal as the PATH lurches forward, making its weaving way through the New Jersey cities.

  My phone buzzes.

  RECLAIM THE SUN: CHAT APPLICATION

  AARON: Hey, sorry if I made things weird last night.

  AARON: I get it, the privacy stuff. I do.

  AARON: So basically, my parents aren’t super psyched about my life choices? The games?

  AARON: I built my computer. Most of it, at least. From things in the trash.

  AARON: My family doesn’t live too far from universities here in Philadelphia, so I dumpster dive sometimes.

  AARON: My pals all call it my Frankenstein computer.

  AARON: But it’s Frankenstein’s monster, actually.

  AARON: Please imagine that being said in a very pretentious literary voice.

  AARON: Anyhow, that’s my story, and you don’t have to share yours. I just hope it makes you laugh.

  AARON: Or something.

  I smile.

  It does.

  And I almost miss my stop, talking to him.

  * * *

  Rebekah charges at me before I even have a chance to sit down, wrapping her arms around my torso and squeezing the hell out of me. I think I feel my ribs shifting inside my chest.

  “I’m...happy to see...you, too...” I groan out, and she lets me go, hopping back into her desk chair, the black seat spinning around a full rotation before she stops and faces me, her eyes totally alight. She runs a finger along the side of her head, fixing a rebellious lock of her mostly short hair, the right side a little longer than the once-buzzed left. The blood orange color is a deeper shade today than it was the last time we were on the stream together, and her small apartment smells faintly of hair dye.

  “This. Footage. Divya,” she says, a beat between each word. “I can’t even handle it. The amount of people emailing about it... I’m so glad you thought to start recording. Discovering that Easter egg, where people can duel over a planet...” She balls her fists together, shaking them. “Who cares about the trolls from the other day? This video is going to be everywhere.”

  Rebekah turns to her screen, clicking away to Google, loading up the news section. “Check it out.”

  GOOGLE NEWS

  “Reclaim the Sun” “contesting planet”

  Engadget Games

  Glitch streamer D1V discovers planet-contesting duel...

  Polygon

  Get ready to fight for your planet in Reclaim the Sun...

  Business Insider

  New video footage reveals hidden Easter egg in Reclaim the Sun...

  See 87 other similar results.


  A smile spreads across my face as I scan the list. “Amazing.”

  “Plus, the video has close to eighty thousand views already,” Rebekah says, clicking over to our YouTube channel and Glitch stream site. “We’ve got some new sponsorship emails, too. By the way, who’s the guy?”

  “Wait, what?” I ask, and Rebekah crosses her arms, grinning. She leans back in her chair and looks at her nails, then back up at me.

  “The guy? From the stream? Who you’ve been playing with lately? I see you two exploring together when I check my channel.” She nods at the computer, like I don’t know what she’s talking about. “Come on, spill, or we are not going to Quarter Slice Crisis.”

  I feign a gasp, holding a hand to my heart. “How dare you threaten to take away my terrible pizza!” When Rebekah raises her eyebrows at me, I relent and say, “It’s nothing, honestly. We just happened to be landing on the same planet, and he was tolerable enough to hang around with for a little while.” It’s my turn to cross my arms at her, and she’s mirroring the scowl I’m trying to give her. My expression breaks first, and I laugh, no good at this game. “I added him to my friends list—”

  “Oh, I know. I saw.” Rebekah nods again at the computer. “Come on, you sent me all the recordings. I could even hear your conversations. You’re lucky I muted all that, by the way. You might have had a few brokenhearted viewers otherwise.”

  “Brokenhearted... Listen, you!” I say, pointing a finger at her. “We did some resource runs yesterday and like, two days ago. And we’ve had some small talk in the chat app. That’s it.”

  “Just...just be careful?” she ventures, looking up at me, her eyes awash with concern. “You know, it’s the Internet or whatever. I wouldn’t let him get too close. You never know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The unfairness of it all weighs on me. It’s hard to encourage a blossoming friendship with an Internet stranger when there are anonymous misogynistic trolls lurking around my house. “I’m being safe. So...pizza and games?”

  “Let me just grab my bag.” She hops out of her chair, which goes spinning. I reach out and stop it, the soft leather pressing against my skin. Rebekah’s home office isn’t much of an office—it’s a corner of her one-room studio in Hoboken, which is a quick walk to the PATH train and not too far from where she goes to college. She’s got it decorated in a gamer-hipster-chic style that no magazine or Pinterest board could properly represent. Gorgeous furniture that she plucked from rummage sales and street corners on trash day, then sanded down and painted herself. Collectible figurines of her (and consequently my) favorite video game characters, from classics like Chrono Trigger and Final Fantasy III (the Super Nintendo one, which is actually Final Fantasy VI for die-hard fans, and the best one ever made, sorry Final Fantasy VII fanboys and -girls). Vintage mirrors paired with long necklaces full of nerdy charms and bookshelves crammed with classic texts and texts on classics—classics being classic games, of course.