by Eric Smith
“It’s not just this,” I insist. “I have to...handle the office back home.”
I glance over at Ryan, who subtly raises his eyebrows in a silent question. I know he won’t blow up my spot, but I’ll definitely be hearing about this from him later, that’s for sure.
“I can get some writing done there, too,” I offer.
“Fine, fine,” Jason concedes. “We’re definitely going over story elements next week, though. I need that opening and introduction perfect if we’re gonna sell this based on a concept. In fact, email it to me when you get a second.” He turns to Ryan. “And I could really use some of the illustrated concept art scanned in.”
“Contracts,” Ryan says with a shrug.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jason snaps. “I’ll have them. But I need something in advance for the showcase.” He glances at me again. “Story.”
“You got it, great,” I say, knowing full well I’m going to get home and load up Reclaim the Sun as quickly as I can, story be damned. I studiously avoid looking my phone as I pack up my laptop and peer over at Ryan instead. He flashes me a sly grin and shakes his head. It’s all I need to know he approves of my nonsense.
I subtly open the game’s chat app as I make my way to the café entrance. Once I reach the door, I glance down to see the video transfer finished and D1V’s new messages.
D1V: Oh my God
D1V: You sent a video.
D1V: You’re ridiculous.
D1V HAS SENT YOU A PARTY REQUEST.
D1V: Oh, that’s right, you’re not actually at your computer, but in a coffee shop.
D1V: Well when you get back home, accept my party request.
D1V: I’ll be on all night.
D1V: Oh, and hey. Thank you.
I practically sprint out of the coffee shop and wave down a cab rounding the corner.
Reclaim the Sun: Chat Application
AARON: On my way home now.
D1V: Wait what? Now?
D1V: Aren’t you with your video game designer pals or something? Making the next Flappy Bird?
AARON: Oh, sooooo funny.
D1V: Or are you more of an Angry Birds fan?
AARON: You are about to get blocked.
D1V: You wouldn’t.
AARON: I wouldn’t. And no, they can wait. They don’t need me today.
D1V: If you’re about to say something sappy about me needing you, I will light my phone on fire.
AARON: What is with you and lighting things on fire?
AARON: Also, they literally don’t need me. It’s an art day. They don’t need my stories.
D1V: Oh.
AARON: I mean.
AARON: You could use a friend though, right?
D1V: THERE IT IS.
D1V: I KNEW IT.
D1V: (takes out lighter, holds up phone).
D1V: Goodbye, dear phone.
AARON: Okay you couldn’t type on your phone while setting it on fire.
AARON: Also it’s not like that. Just saying.
D1V: I’m just busting your chops.
AARON: Can we talk using the like, speakers in the game and whatnot later?
AARON: Your sarcasm is very lost in here, and you are the queen of it.
D1V: Hah, sure.
10
DIVYA
“He sent you a video,” Rebekah says deadpan. She’s staring at me from the little screen in the corner of my monitor, her mouth in a thin line.
“Yeah, it was actually kinda funny?” I dig for my phone.
“I don’t want to see it.” She rolls her eyes.
“Whatever, he’s a good one.” I slide the phone onto my desk. “He makes me laugh. We did some resource runs and talked a lot.”
“What do you even talk about?”
“Oh, nothing important, really,” I say. “Reclaim the Sun. The game he’s working on, which sounds pretty neat. What streaming is like. Bad movies. Nothing terribly...I don’t know, real?”
“Okay. That’s fine, just—”
“—be careful,” I finish, turning back to her little screen. “I know, Beks. Don’t worry. Speaking of, have you heard anything else from Detective Watts?”
“Man, she is so cool,” Rebekah croons.
“I know.” I grin. “I’m glad we have someone like her in our corner.”
“Same. But no, nothing new. You okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.” There’s a short pause while Rebekah fusses over something on her keyboard and fiddles with her phone. She exhales and looks back at me, smiling. I know that smile. The soft, pained one that hides so much behind it. I know she isn’t okay. How could she be? It’s only been a week since Quarter Slice Crisis, and every single mention of the incident online seems to link back to the articles about Rebecca’s assault last year, rubbing salt into a wound that isn’t even close to healed yet.
I don’t know what to say to her half the time. So I try my best to be there to listen, on the rare moments she wants to say anything about it.
“So...you think I’ll like this guy,” Rebekah says, her eyes narrowing.
“I do. He’s—”
“Wait, is he male?”
“Well, yeah, he—”
“Then nope.”
I laugh and look back at the Reclaim the Sun start menu, flipping through my small friends list. A few members of the Angst Armada are online, the ones I’ve grown to trust, and of course there’s Rebekah and a handful of old acquaintances from high school, but no sign of Aaron yet. I wonder if I’ll meet any people I can game with once I start classes at the community college.
“How long are we going to wait for your boyfriend?” Rebekah asks, putting extra emphasis where it is certainly not needed.
“I am going to blow up your ship the second we get into the game if you say that word again,” I growl, playfully scowling at her. She’s right, though. It’s not like we have all night. Well, I kind of do, but Rebekah doesn’t—she has class tomorrow morning and can’t be streaming nonstop like me.
“Alright, alright,” Rebekah says, holding up her hands in surrender. “But seriously, if we’re going to do a bit of surprise streaming, we should really get on with it.” When I continue to hesitate, she adds, “Look, he can always join us later.”
“I know, but...” I trail off, looking at my friends list and the in-game messenger again. I pick up my phone to see if he’s sent me a text, then remember he doesn’t actually have my phone number. Even though he seems like a great guy, there’s no way I’m giving that out. Not yet, anyway.
I let out a sigh. “Okay. Let’s post on social and dive in.”
“You sure you’re ready?” Rebekah asks, not for the first time tonight. “For another public stream and co-op? I just... I worry.”
“Yeah, I’m ready. Fuck those guys.” I glance down at her screen. “Are you?”
“Probably not,” Rebekah says, her tone defeated. I wish I could reach through the screen and hug her. These trolls, their threats, the attack... I can’t even imagine what it’s like for her, how triggering it all is. But since it’s way too late to hop the PATH to Hoboken for a visit and some fried snacks, I decide I’ll do the next best thing.
Wreak havoc across the universe in her name.
“I got you,” I tell her, trying to project as much confidence as possible. “Let’s go.”
In less than a minute, we’ve alerted Twitter, our small but loyal Facebook group, and our Glitch stream subscribers. And in the minutes that follow, numerous blips appear in our multiplayer party channel. Familiar usernames from past excursions. My beloved Angst Armada, returning to the fold once more.
I wonder, if things go sideways, will they have my back this time? Will they leave me on the ground, to fall into the icy depths of an unknown planet, again? I get th
at they didn’t want to lose their ships and their experience points and all that...but it didn’t feel great, watching them leave.
Oh well.
As the people pop in, they burst into the party chat window quickly, but like popcorn in the microwave, the growing numbers start to peter down, from multiple bursts to just one or two every few seconds. With a little more time, alerting the streaming community that we’d be doing this or that on a given date or time, we’d probably have hundreds more.
But after everything that’s happened here, in the online space and whatever is going on outside, keeping it a little lower key feels right. I’m in no rush to have someone log on and kick my ass during my comeback.
“Looks like this is it,” I say to Rebekah in a private channel.
“It’ll make for a good video. D1V’s return!” Rebekah exclaims, though I still hear hints of heartbreak in her voice. The exclamation isn’t fooling me.
“Beks, we don’t have to—” I start.
“Nope,” she says, shaking her head in that little video window, and I think I catch her wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, but it happens too quickly for me to be sure. “Nope, we’re doing this. Recording in three...two...one...”
With a click, I can suddenly hear the entire channel. An array of voices, cheering and shouting. My people. My Armada.
“Why, hello, my dears,” I say into the microphone, summoning up all the energy I can. I flick on the streaming cam, and a live video of myself pops up in the corner of the screen, recording my every reaction as we play through the game. “I’m back. Did you all miss me?”
More cheering, louder and louder, and then suddenly several alerts and pings start popping up on my screen. Sounds and alerts I haven’t seen before.
I squint at the text, and it takes a while before I realize what’s happening.
You have a fund transfer from
THE NERDY NARWHAL
in the amount of 10,000 credits.
Do you wish to accept?
[YES] [NO]
My jaw drops as more and more pop up on the screen. 500 credits. 1,000 credits. 20,000 credits. 25 credits.
Transfers from users in the Armada.
My heart is hammering in my chest, and I can’t believe what’s happening right now, or that I ever doubted them.
“For you, our captain!” shouts one girl.
Another cheer: “‘O Captain! My Captain!’”
“We’ve been planning this!” I hear another young girl shout.
And so on.
It’s like that scene from Dead Poets Society, only in space. And instead of desks and chairs, we have planets and starships.
And it is beautiful.
My credits account in Reclaim the Sun keeps going up and up as I accept each incoming...donation? Pledge? I’m not even sure what to call them. I turn to look at Rebekah’s window, and she is jumping up and down in her seat, the sound muted, but I can tell she is just screaming.
When the alerts finally start to slow down, there are over 100,000 credits in my account, an amount that would easily customize the hell out of my ship and get me the best upgrades possible. It’s an amount that in actual physical money would be close to $1,000 and would take an exorbitant amount of time to gather on one’s own. I’d managed to wrangle up about 2,000 credits over the weeks since the troll incident, doing little runs on planets and resource gathering on my own and sometimes with Aaron or Rebekah. Just barely enough to upgrade my weapons and ship a little.
Nothing like this.
And just like that, I’m crying.
I can’t help it.
“My Armada!” I exclaim, pressing my hands to my heart. “I love you!”
“You deserve it!” someone shouts.
“Fuck those guys!” another exclaims, to an array of cheers.
“Thank you,” I say with a watery chuckle. “Alright, everyone, let’s get going! I can upgrade later. I want to spend this time with you. With every single one of you.” I reach out and grab my VR headset, glancing over at Rebekah’s little screen. She looks up at me, her eyes glistening, and nods. I won’t be able to see her small window while in VR, but she gets it. I know she does.
This crew, this bundle of fans and gamers... I want to be as immersed in this moment as I possibly can. Feel as close to them as possible.
For some weird reason, my mind drifts to thoughts of Aaron, and my heart wrenches a bit at his absence. He’d love being here to see all this. And...I’d like him here with me.
I try to shake my wistfulness away, but it lingers there in my head, wedged in the back. He’s been a good friend lately, checking in the way he has.
I put the headset on, and my bedroom disappears, the visor snug against my head. I blink a few times to get used to the lenses, and as the headset finishes syncing to the computer, there it is. The dashboard of my ship, with the heads-up display showcasing hundreds of thousands of credits. I grip the VR controls, the sticks in my hands, fingers on the triggers, as I look left, then right. Out the windows, to the ships floating near me.
Everything about this moment is awesome.
With a quick flick of my wrist with one of the controllers, I open up the player list for our channel, taking stock of everyone who’s here and keeping an eye out for Aaron’s name. There’s a mix of familiar usernames and some new folks. I spend what feels like a significant amount of time studying those new names, trying to see something, anything, that might be hiding behind them. Another troll, someone who might have infiltrated my ranks and Armada. Anyone who might turn on me once we take off.
But there’s no way to know, and no time to vet every single player. There are over a hundred people in here.
“Let’s go!” I shout, pressing forward on my ship’s controls. The character list screen sweeps away, replaced by the black emptiness of space. My little ship, the Cedere Nescio, floats listlessly with the rest of the Armada. Unlike most of my fleet, I’m nowhere near fully upgraded—though now I definitely have all I need to build myself up again. I hope they’re feeling patient for now, though, because jumping definitely isn’t going to be as fast as it used to be.
While my ship’s scanners survey the nearby star systems, I look out my vessel’s cockpit window. Sometimes just staring out at the stars reveals little secrets. A glimmering speck that shines a shade lighter or darker than the rest, an off-color white or a pale yellow or a deep red can mean more than just a star. It could be a sun. A large moon. A planet. A place ripe for exploration and discovery.
“If anyone spots anything, just send me a message!” I say into the headset, worried that this could take a while. “My scanners aren’t that great yet.”
“Just go upgrade!” someone shouts.
“We’ll wait!” More cheers erupt.
“It’s okay,” I say with laugh. “I’ve got all the time in the world to do that. I want this moment with all of you.”
After a few more minutes of what is going to be utterly boring footage, I lift up my headset for a minute, blinking against the natural light as it floods my eyes. I glance over at Rebekah in her little screen. Her arms are crossed, her feet up on the desk, and she looks about as bored as I imagine the rest of the Armada must be.
Something beeps in my headset, and I watch Rebekah jostle up to read something. I put my headset back on, and as my eyes adjust to the digital world again, I see a text alert floating in front of me.
INCOMING TRANSMISSION
MAGGS: Hey D1V! I’ve got some heavy upgrades on my ship, and there’s a Class 3 planet over here. I’ll send the coordinates. It doesn’t say anything about it being discovered yet. My gift to you and the Armada!
SPACE MAP LOCATION: 52.7 / 62.5 / 31.6
I load up the channel list and find Maggs’s profile, which opens up to show a geeky gal with bright red hair and bold blue-rimmed gl
asses.
I grin. Definitely one of us.
I move my controller so I can reply to her message, and a little microphone symbol blips up. As I talk, the chat window writes out what I dictate.
TRANSMISSION FOLDER
ME: Maggs, you are a queen. I accept your gift and dub you a lieutenant in the Armada. Shoot me an email, I’ll send you a patch when we finish getting them made. Or a pin. I think we’re doing both.
I send the message, and her reply is almost immediate.
INCOMING TRANSMISSION
MAGGS: Oh my God that’s amzinfg
YOU”RE AMAZINGEGG!
I laugh. She must be on a keyboard-and-mouse setup, because that’s clearly not something you can dictate out loud. I speak the coordinates for the ship, and the screens alert me to it being an unknown quadrant, but I opt to trust Maggs. My scanners can’t detect that far out—apparently hers can, though.
I close out her window and open up a chat with the entire channel, their voices flooding my headset.
“Listen up, Armada!” I announce, and they quiet down. “Maggs has found a Class 3 planet in the far-off reaches of space, and it’s ours for the taking. Tag my ship, or hers, and follow us to adventure!”
My ship’s dashboard alerts me to several locked-on vessels. They beep in one after another, dozens upon dozens of them.
“Um, apologies in advance if this takes a minute. I’ve got a lot of work to do on this ship, but can get to that soon, thanks to all of you. Ready in three...two...”
Then my chat window chimes, displaying a little orange screen, and my heart does this weird, unexpected fluttering thing that catches me completely off guard.
It’s Aaron.
INCOMING TRANSMISSION
AARON: Room for one more in the Armada? Sorry I’m late is that D1V tell her I said hi and she’s very pretty oh my God Mira stop it get out of here.
I have to cover my mouth so I don’t explode with laughter into the channel. I close out the group chat and reply quickly to him. And Mira.
TRANSMISSION FOLDER
ME: About to take off, hurry up and lock on!