by Eric Smith
I rack my brain. There’s got to be a way.
But maybe...maybe he’s better off. Away from all this.
I can figure it out later. For now, I close out of everything and open Rebekah’s actual texts to my phone, not the chat client. They might have hacked my recovery info for my social feeds, but at least my phone is still mine, even if they do have the number now. There are a bunch of messages from Rebekah following the earlier ones, each more upset than the last.
I pluck Detective Watts’s business card out of my wallet and look from her number to Rebekah’s texts.
Rebekah first, then Watts. She needs to know everything is okay. She needs to know I don’t blame her for any of this.
As I start typing out a response, a light flickers across my phone screen—some kind of reflection. I glance around my room and eventually find the source, a flashing coming from my VR headset on the bed.
I reach over to pick it up and peek into the headset. The lenses aren’t reflecting what’s on my monitor, mirroring the game’s menu or login or anything like it should. Instead, it’s just flashing, white and black and white and black and white and—
It’s a damn strobe.
They sent me a seizure-inducing video.
Seizures aren’t something I live with—I’ve never had something like that happen to me from flashing lights or a video game or anything. But the reality doesn’t matter to them.
It’s the possibility.
The potential.
I could have fallen out of my chair. The headset’s cable could have pulled my computer down on top of me.
They could have killed me. If the possibility was even remotely there, they took it.
My phone rings, and I jump, my heart racing. I place the headset back on the bed and gingerly pick up the phone to answer.
“Div?” It’s Rebekah, and her voice chokes back a sob.
That’s it. Me. My best friend. My mother.
My life.
After my appearance at GamesCon, I’m done.
Reclaim the Sun: Chat Application
AARON: D1V?
AARON: Are you there? What happened?
AARON: All your feeds are down, and I can’t find you.
AARON: I’ll email you.
AARON: Are you okay?
D1V: LOOOOOOOL.
D1V: D1V’S NOT HERE MAN.
AARON: What?
AARON: Who is this?
D1V: THESE CHAT LOGS ARE HILARIOUS.
D1V: YOU THINK SHE REALLY CARES ABOUT YOU.
D1V: LOL.
AARON: Whoever this is, you better log out.
D1V: OR WHAT.
D1V: LOL.
D1V: BYE.
18
AARON
“What do you mean, gone?” Ryan asks, leaning against the reception desk in my mom’s practice. “We live in the age of social media and the Internet, my friend. You can’t just disappear.”
He plucks one of the terrible doctor’s office lollipops out of the giant jar near the sign-in sheet, unwraps it, and quickly pops it in his mouth. Then he makes a face and takes it out, rewrapping it with exaggerated care.
“Don’t,” I say, giving him a look.
He drops the lollipop back in the jar, grinning.
“Dude!” I move to grab the jar, but he snatches it away, pulling his lollipop out again.
“Come on, I was joking.” Ryan smiles and grabs a different lollipop, this one apparently good, as he doesn’t toss it back in. “Now explain.”
“It’s like what I’ve been texting you!” I say, exasperated. “I don’t know how they did it, but I’ve spent the past few days trying to find something, anything, and she’s just... She’s not there anymore.”
I pull out my phone. Since D1V signed off a few days ago, all her social media accounts vanished. Her Glitch channel lost all its content and immediately went to private. And when I tried to reach her in the game’s mobile chat client...
Well, let’s just say I know it’s not her texting me all these...sexually explicit instructions.
“Have you tried messaging her friend?” Ryan asks, his speech a little broken up with the giant lollipop rattling against his teeth. “Rebekah? She’s in those streams, too.”
I shake my head. “I’ve emailed a few times, but she isn’t responding. I think maybe she got hacked, too, I don’t know.” I rotate the monitor on the office PC around, so Ryan can see. “All of her social accounts are locked down. Not deleted. But definitely private and shut away.”
I move to spin the monitor back to me when Ryan grabs it. “Wait, wait,” he says, squinting at the screen. He points at an icon on the desktop. “What is that? Is that... Is that it?”
My shoulders slump. “Yeah, that’s it.” With a quick click of the mouse, my dad’s folder is open on the desktop, the massive list of Word documents ready to be explored, that little icon of Ultima Online the only contrasting blip of color among them.
“That’s...that’s a lot,” Ryan says, his tone defeated.
I close the folder containing my dad’s secret and navigate back to the newsfeeds. They’re full of what I already know, what I’ve been reading again and again over the past few days. Massive hacking attack on D1V. Social media accounts broken into. Glitch channel deleted. Game profile gone and reregistered. A laundry list of things, all at once. A collaborative effort.
A news alert pings in the corner of the screen, and it opens up to an article on Polygon—again, about D1V. This one mentions my name in the list of gamers who were playing.
“I’m not sure how they get away with just calling it trolling,” I say. “It’s like terrorism at this point. And look at all this attention. Her name is everywhere.”
“So is yours.” Ryan indicates the screen.
I shrug. My own notoriety doesn’t matter. It’s D1V who’s at the center of all this. She’s the one hurting.
“I need to see her,” I say resolutely.
“Riiiiight,” Ryan drawls, taking the lollipop out of his mouth and twirling it about. “Because that’s a good idea. Go surprise the girl who’s been stalked online to the point that they’ve deleted her digital life and harassed her and her family. In person.”
“But it isn’t like that—”
“No, no,” he says, holding his hands up. “You’re right. It’s very romantic.”
“Damn it.” I groan and stand up. “What am I supposed to do, then?” I glance over at the appointment schedule tacked on the desk’s wall. “I can’t just sit here and not do anything. We care about each other. We...we have something.”
“Give her time to get all of her life back together, man,” Ryan suggests, perching on the desk. “If it was that bad, I bet she would have reached out somehow. Well, it is that bad, but if she really needed you. You know?”
My heart sinks a little.
“Sorry, I’m fucking this up.” He bites down on the lollipop. “Look, I don’t want to bring you down here. I’m just saying. Probably not the best idea to go running in thinking you’re some gallant knight or something. You kept wanting to do that for Laura, thinking Jason is an asshole—”
“Jason is an asshole,” I remind him. “He still hasn’t paid us.”
“That may be,” Ryan admits. “But still, not your place. She’s happy.”
“Yeah... Yeah, you’re right.” I groan. “I should have just asked for her phone number at some point.” I sit back down and run my hands through my hair. “You know? Such an easy question. But nope. Only talked through a chat application linked to the game that she’s banned from. All her social networks are gone. I don’t have her normal email. Her in-game email is dead. Her best friend is on lockdown.” The futility of it all is exhausting. “How did people even find each other before technology?”
“Give her time,”
Ryan says. “In the meantime, let’s go hit Gamezone or something. Get your mind off all this.”
I give him a look.
“Hey, I know video games got you into this mess, but you love them,” he says, pointing at me with the white stem that remains of his lollipop. “At least, I think you do, Mr. Didn’t Know What Ultima Online Is. We’ll get some mindless ten-dollar shooting game, like an old Halo or something, and blow each other up for a few hours, and you’ll feel fine. Plus, this isn’t just all about you. What about my day? What about my life? I have needs, too.”
“Wait...did something happen?” I feel flush all over, having prattled about my problems all afternoon as opposed to talking with my best friend.
“Everything is fine. I’m messing with you.” Ryan grins and pops the white stick back in his mouth, moving it back and forth. “Should this be my new look?” he asks. “Maybe get a toothpick? Be one of those people?”
“No,” I say. “Absolutely not.”
* * *
The Gamezone isn’t terribly far away. While our homes might feel like they aren’t in the city, as Philadelphia is really great at providing the illusion of suburban life in an actual city, it only takes a fifteen-minute stroll in any direction to start seeing signs of city life. Proper downtown areas, and all that. Stores, high-rises, condos with downstairs shops, all just a quick powerwalk away on the busier streets, all mostly named after trees. Chestnut. Walnut. No matter how many cute row houses are nearby, you can almost always look up and spot skyscrapers in the distance.
Tucked between a comic book shop and a nail salon sits the local Gamezone. It’s a lot like those popular Gamestop stores, which you can find in just about every mall and city everywhere, and even goes so far as to rip off the logo and color scheme. It’s an indie game shop, so everything is a bit more expensive, but they throw some decent gaming events, which makes up for it. Community and all.
I push open the front door, Ryan following me inside. A large cardboard cutout of the Master Chief from Halo stands near the entrance, advertising the next game in the never-ending series. I jerk my elbow at it in silent question, but Ryan shakes his head, pointing over at the old PlayStation titles across the way, and a very tempting five-dollar bin that mostly looks full of aging Call of Duty titles.
I follow him over, my eyes scanning the used games for something that’ll keep us busy, and I wince at the big advertisement for Reclaim the Sun. The game’s logo, accompanied by the critical reviews and scores from different video game sites, is big and bold, hanging next to the newer games.
“I feel you,” a Gamezone employee says, sauntering over. He’s a little taller than me, and maybe a year or two older, if that. A college-aged guy is working in the shop as well, fussing with the computer behind the counter. “It’s not even that great a game.” He tips his head at the Reclaim the Sun ad and shrugs. “But you know, people buy into the hype.”
“Yeah, that and all the drama,” the other employee says, not even looking up from the register. “I’m telling you, they engineer that shit just to get publicity.”
“Oh my God, Chad, not again with this,” the younger employee says, turning away from me and Ryan.
“What?” Chad humphs. “I bet it is. That streamer chick isn’t even that hot.”
That streamer chick? I glance at Ryan, feeling a flare of rage building up. He’s talking about D1V. It can’t possibly be anyone else.
“Here’s how it works. They get some model to pretend they care about a video game, give her a bunch of fake subscribers, and then get these so-called trolls to attack her.” Chad makes a dismissive noise. “There’s no way any of that is real.”
“Explain the GamesCon appearance then, huh?” the younger guy says, crossing his arms. “There would be a huge lawsuit if that was all fake.”
“Why do you think she disappeared?” Chad asks, holding his arms out. “All staged. And now that panel at GamesCon is going to be massive. All this attention. Just you watch. People will write about it, game sales will spike, all because it’s a big machine. Bunch of fake geek girls and all that.”
“She’s...” I step toward the counter, anger and hope warring inside me. “She’s still doing that panel? Even after everything that happened?”
“Supposedly,” the non-Chad employee says, handing me a flyer. “I heard rumors that GamesCon is going to be her first and last public appearance. That other girl on the stream with her said it in some interview I read this morning.”
“Rebekah?” I venture.
“Yeah, you watch that stream? You a Glitcher?” He smiles, crossing his arms. “I’m super into it.”
“I do,” I say, trying to avoid looking at Chad, who’s rolling his eyes behind the register. “Not much of a live-streaming gamer myself, but I check it out sometimes.”
“Rebekah.” Chad inclines his head, a smug smile spreading across his face. “Now, I hope she’s the real deal. I’d sure love to get a piece of that.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m stalking toward Chad, my fists balled up. Ryan runs up and grabs me from behind, pulling me back, and a flare of heat blooms inside my chest.
“Shut the fuck up!” I shout at Chad. Chad. Fucking Chad. Of course, his goddamn name is Chad. “You don’t get to talk about her that way!”
“Whoa-ho-ho!” Chad says, grinning broadly. He strolls around the counter slowly, tauntingly. “Looks like we got us a mega fan here.” He stops in front of me and leans down to whisper menacingly, “You know what? If any of that nonsense that happened was real... I think those chicks deserve it.”
I scream at him, wrestling against Ryan.
“Chad, come on,” protests the other employee.
“Dude, knock it off,” Ryan grunts as I keep trying to lunge away from him. He’s dragging me back toward the door, and I’m baffled by how strong he is.
“It’s true!” Chad calls as we get closer to the exit. “If it’s real, GamesCon is going to be really interesting. I heard the Populi are gonna put on quite the show.”
The door closes behind us, and I spin around to glare at Ryan.
“What?” he says. “What were you going to do, punch that guy?”
“Maybe!” I exclaim.
“Yeah, that would have ended well. ‘Sorry, Officer, he was defending his online friend that he’s never met and why are you handcuffing him why is he in jail now what’s assault—”
“Okay, okay,” I say, waving him off. “I get it. Let’s just go buy a digital game. Fuck those guys.” I look back at the store and notice the GamesCon flyer hanging on the front door. I storm over and tear it off, and the two of us head back toward our neighborhood.
I study the flyer as we walk. There’s a large Reclaim the Sun logo next to GamesCon’s, with some details about D1V’s panel, “Harassment in Video Game Culture & Women: A Conversation.” There are a few other streamers on the panel with her, and it’s in the morning on the Friday of the convention. I can’t help but scowl at the list of panelists, considering it’s supposed to be a discussion about women in games and it looks like D1V is the only woman on the thing.
I glance back at the store, still simmering over that obnoxious employee and his glee at D1V’s downfall, his doubt over whether she’s even a real person or not. Which is part of the damn problem—people assume that those behind a screen, or masked with an avatar, aren’t real people. Then there was all that stuff about how he thinks the convention will be really interesting. And he mentioned the Populi...
It’s not the possibility that I might be able to meet her that sends my heart racing and my feet flying back home in a hurry, Ryan half jogging next to me, complaining that I need to slow down. No. It’s the fact that she’ll be there. At that event in New York City. With someone like that, like Chad, someone unwelcoming, waiting for her. And that something is supposed to happen at the convention.
&
nbsp; Really interesting... The Populi are gonna put on quite the show.
I have to find a way to stop them.
19
DIVYA
“I don’t care,” I say flatly, closing my laptop. “I’m going.”
As I meet Rebekah’s eyes, I struggle to hide the rising emotions I’m feeling after reading all the comments online. After being forced to ignore my golden rule. The little sign in my room. Don’t Read the Comments.
This time, I read all of them. Every single one.
“Div, you can’t—” Rebekah starts.
“I’m going,” I insist. I reach across the cafeteria table and grab her hands. I feel them shaking a little, and give her fingers a reassuring squeeze. I visited the Women’s Center here on campus with her earlier. To talk. To get all this...awful off my chest.
There was something about talking to someone about everything, all that’s happened, all that I think is going to happen, that felt...good. Right. Particularly with a person who claimed they’ve never played a video game in their life.
It gave me perspective. There’s a whole world outside my bubble. All I have to do is let it pop.
I close my eyes for a moment, soaking in the oddly comforting sounds of the college cafeteria. The never-ending din of voices, conversations that sound friendly and jovial, all around me, pushing back against the welling sadness that keeps trying to envelop me. The food here isn’t that fantastic, but it’s free, thanks to Rebekah. And with everything shutting down, with no access to my channel and social feeds, I’m taking every free thing I can get.
The money isn’t gone. It’s not like it vanished overnight. But I know it’s not going to come back any time soon, not until I restore my channels. And who knows how long that’s going to take.
And if I even want them back.
I open my eyes to see Rebekah shaking her head.
“But you saw what they said they’re going to do,” she presses back, withdrawing her hands from mine.