by Yannick Hill
She checked her make-up in the mirror and saw herself, the sun across her face was her now, an arc of quicksilver, her light, her future, far from the ocean, sword on the back seat, this was who she was, across America to another ocean, late afternoon and she was somewhere. She opened the door to her car and breathed swamp air. She was far from home, no one to protect her, no one to protect, and out of nowhere a young kid approaching like he just took off his invisibility cloak.
They stood looking at each other. The kid wasn’t a day over seven. He had a white bunny rabbit under one arm.
‘What’s the matter?’ Missy said. ‘Never seen a princess before?’
‘You ain’t no princess,’ said the boy, spitting on the yellow grass, one hand on his hip.
‘Who says I ain’t?’ Missy said, flicking her long blonde hair.
The kid almost smiled, then said, ‘Cus I know a dirty-ass skank when I sees one.’
‘That’s rude,’ Missy said. ‘Why would you want to talk to me that way? We only just met. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?’
The kid did this thing where he wiped his face hard with the palm of his hand and stamped his foot like he was mad about something. Then he shrugged. The rabbit closed its red eyes and moved its triangle nose up and down, up and down.
‘Cute bunny,’ Missy said.
‘He likes you,’ the kid said, ‘and he likes apples. Sliced apples, he likes them pretty good.’
Missy changed tack. ‘I’m looking for someone named Silas. You know him?’
‘Yeah, I know Silas.’
‘Great, could you show me where he is? I’d like to meet him.’
‘He inside.’
‘Inside?’
‘Inside my house. Silas my father ’n’ shit.’
‘Okay.’
‘My rabbit’ll sniff you if you let him,’ the boy said.
‘Good to know,’ said Missy. ‘What’s your name, by the way?’
‘I ain’t got a name.’
‘Well that can’t be true. Everybody has a name.’
The kid looked bored.
‘Well, mine’s Missy.’
‘That’s a stupid name.’
‘I happen to like it,’ Missy said, which was the truth.
She followed the kid as he showed off, kicking trash cans and balancing the rabbit on his head. He was quite good at it actually, and the rabbit didn’t seem to mind too much. They stopped in front of one of the bigger trailers at the back of the park and the boy with no name banged his fist twice. Right away Missy saw the insignia on the door: a white star against black. There was movement inside, a shift in dark color behind the plastic window. The door opened but no one looked out. It stood ajar, no light in the gap. The kid with no name gestured for Missy to go on inside. Whoever Silas was he was expecting her.
15
The chat with unknown_user had River so freaked he lost his hold on the climbing wall and fell backwards onto the blue gym mattress. He hadn’t slept much last night but his dream was of lions. Tiny lions, giant lions, tiny lions, giant lions, all marching with computer-generated uniformity toward and through him across an infinite savannah of purple grass. River stared up at the fake, multi-colored rocks of his beloved bedroom climbing wall. He was an excellent climber (had never seen a rock face). He totally never fell usually. River bounced himself to his feet and jogged over to the heavy leather punch bag, delivering a furious volley of punches. Left-right-left-left-right. River was the kind of monk to stay in shape. He had his father’s frame: lean, and broad across the shoulders. Left-right-left-left-right. He felt the sweat run down behind his ears. It was this damn bear costume. Always making him run hot. Left-right-left-left-right.
He’d always taken great pride in his anonymity online, taken every precaution to remain as close to invisible as possible: he was a lone wolf, he’d never used his real name, always used anonymous currency, proxies, VPNs . . . His system of tunnels beneath the surface web was second to none. And yet . . . this unknown_user character had found a way in.
Profiling . . . That’s how they got you: the way you talked, your political views, typos . . . Basically any of your idiosyncrasies would eventually give you away. In other words, unless you were an actual robot, you could never be truly anonymous. River had always thought differently. River was a shape-shifter, he’d assumed countless identities online, and no one had ever made the connection. Until now. Someone was watching. And not only were they watching: they knew where he lived! Versailles’ security was pretty tight. All those cameras had to be good for something. And Angel, their head of security, was ex-Special Forces. Offline River felt pretty safe.
Online was a different thing. He’d had to start again. Close off one tunnel and start digging new ones. No typos this time. He’d spent half the night with a black blanket over his head trying to get a fix on this clown on his air-gapped laptop using military-grade tracking software. But unknown_user was the real thing. Untraceable. Bona fide anonymous. It made River so mad he almost set light to his 1:1 matchstick sculpture of a bottlenose dolphin consisting of 100,000 matchsticks. Almost.
He was *this* close to leaving his bedroom to look for Missy, but what was he gonna do? Fly in a custom one-man electric helicopter? Completely silent and more than capable of traveling up to sixty-two mph? Okay, fine, that was actually an option, but no, right now he was more use to Missy on the ground, right here in his bedroom. Right here in this room is where he had the internet and the internet was his zone, his stage, his summer palace. Right here in his room is where he had his machines, so many machines, his computers, his screens. They hurt his eyes sometimes, a dull ache in his eyeballs when he went to sleep at nighttime. But his seven monitors were his windows onto the true world, the better world, more than real. Better. Data. Flowing, popping, scrolling like the shore of an endless ocean. Streams of information. And his bedroom was the observation deck. He was all up in this place like a master criminal, with his crazy-new machines, mad surveillance skills and pimped office chair featuring a tri-panel mesh backrest and mechanism-free, self-adjusting recline technology. That’s right, he was way more use to his sister on the ground, on the ground like ground troops, like a herd of panther cats. Hmm, maybe not panthers, they hunted solo, but even still, unknown_user better watch out because . . . unknown_user better watch his back cus River ’bout to make him known user, that’s why. River ’bout to flip the switch on this fool, catch him like a coyote in his lights. Left-right-left-left-right.
‘I’m bored,’ screeched the mynah bird.
‘Shut up, Money, this is serious.’
River and Money had practically grown up together. He mimicked things that River said. But he could mix it up too, catching River off-guard now and then with a natty formulation that almost rang true.
Left-right-left-left-right.
‘I’m bored,’ screeched Money, actually sounding bored this time.
‘Wait,’ River said, holding the bag still for a moment, ‘who taught you to say that? I don’t remember telling you I was bored. I’m never bored. Ever.’ Bored people, dude. Line ’em up and – Left-right-left-left-right.
‘Missy missing now,’ crowed Money, blinking with his creepy little eyelids.
‘What did you say?’ River stopped punching again and rounded on the bird, bringing his glistening face right up to the cage, the bag swinging out of focus. He repeated the question: ‘What did you say to me?’
Money gave his master a random sidelong glance and flapped his black wings a couple times for extra effect. ‘Missy missing noooow, squawk.’
‘Who told you to say that? Hey! Money, look at me.’ River had goosebumps. Had someone got to Money?! All those cameras throughout the mansion, Angel on the gates . . . It couldn’t be. River spun around. A room so big you could play hide-and- seek and win. But he’d been here the whole time. No way someone could be in here with him. He hadn’t moved in days. River squeezed his eyes shut like when he was a kid, scared there migh
t be nighttime monsters in his wardrobe. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. Man, this unknown_user character really had him spooked!
Missy missing now. What, had Money read his mind? He’d heard of pets being able to sense their master’s moods, but no bird was that smart. Money could say a bunch of stuff, but none of it meant anything.
More flapping from Money and then: ‘Missy mail. Missing Missy mail.’
WTF! River dropped the skateboard in front of him and carved across his bedroom to the computer console, flinging himself into the ergonomic office chair in the same movement and spinning round three times before settling into his mouse and keyboard routine.
A remote hack of Missy’s computer gave River access to all her data. Right away he found an email confirming deletion of her account on the social network, date-stamped the day before yesterday. She had thirty days to reactivate, but River had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. There was another email from a day earlier. No sender, no subject. Level Up! He clicked the link but nothing happened. Level up . . . River was thinking some kind of AR game, maybe a treasure hunt? But the hyperlink was coded for a one-time-only download, so it was a dead end. He did a search of her archive. There. Three months ago. No sender, no subject. The email contained a link.
The video of Scout Rose with the sword. He remembered this thing had caused a sensation because it was her first appearance since her famous disappearance. When the video ended he watched it again. It was only on his fourth play that River realized he wasn’t doing this for Missy anymore, he was watching because he wanted to, because he’d never seen anything like this. Stuff about it he hadn’t noticed before. There was something alien about it, the onlookers in their animal masks, like a broadcast from another planet. Scout Rose. Her performance was fear, it was fearful, the future unfolding. And River was falling. He scrolled the comments.
pinkandgold 37 minutes ago
Perfect :)
ewanmee 1 hour ago
strong and sexy
ursula9000 1 day ago
I want to wield a sword in the desert!
m-16fan 3 hours ago
What did I just watch . . .
dead_mickey 7 hours ago
I’m gonna go do a whole bunch a drugs to this later on
compassrose 17 hours ago
Nothing but love, Scout.
Animals 17 hours ago
My penis is confused
border 1 day ago
Iguana magic
golden 2 days ago
sex
dothevoice 2 days ago
this has been flagged as spam
litvak 2 days ago
kids
harmony 2 days ago
The director is the artist
He found her at the very beginning. Hers was the first comment.
capturethecastle 3 months ago
If this is the future, I want to leave now
He knew what his sister meant, but it hurt to read this, not knowing where she was, not knowing she was safe. Sure it was kind of flying crocodile, but he didn’t like that whatever was happening was happening without him. First comment. That could only mean . . . Whoever sent Missy this video had something to do with its creation. But why would she want to leave like that? Where was she headed? That desert could be anywhere, so what did Missy see in the video that he couldn’t? It had to be the second email. If this was AR she was probably following some kind of virtual breadcrumb trail. Waypoints, portal hacks, all that good stuff. But this looked like an invitation-only type deal.
More flapping from the cage. River let Money out once every day, let him fly around the room a while until he got sleepy. He reached into the cage and took Money gently between his palms like, well, like a living thing, and released him into the air. He returned to his desk as Money began to circle above. ‘Squawk. Missy missing now.’
There’d been something up with her all summer, he’d hardly seen her in the house. What have you gotten yourself into, Missy? unknown_user had made it sound like a cult, like Missy was being recruited . . . The video was uploaded back in June by ruhin, registered to the website since its inception, but he or she had only ever uploaded this one video.
He soon tracked ruhin to scoutfan.net, a site dedicated to none other than Scout Rose, but the trail ended there. ruhin was no longer active but appeared to have had moderator status at one time. Okay, big leap but could scoutfan be some kind of recruitment portal? For a cult?? Only one way to find out! Go a little deeper. Play dress-up. The forum was members-only, but it didn’t take him long to bypass the vetting process, generate a profile and sign himself in as pr1ncess, a sixteen-year-old girl excited to make some new friends on the internet. River hesitated. He remembered unknown_user’s words on chat: You don’t find us, we find you. He fought the impulse to take the claw hammer and smash his new laptop to smithereens.
Okay, so maybe he’d gotten cocky over the years, not taking so much care to cover his tracks. Those days were over. Starting today. He’d taken every precaution. No typos. If this unknown_user freak could be anonymous, so could he . . . And yet, this feeling there was someone watching him, right now. Someone in the room with him. But that was impossible. He’d been there the whole time. River looked over his shoulder. No movement. He went and got a mirror and set it up on his desk to act as a rearview. Then he squeezed his eyes tight shut. There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. He wished his mom was here to tell him it was okay, he was safe, and Missy was safe, that they would all be together again soon, under one roof.
16
He was a big guy, built strong like a tree. When Silas stood to shake her hand he towered over her, two heads taller than she. He was dressed in black biker leathers and an orange neckerchief and his gray beard and sunburned face made him look like a drunken wizard, though she didn’t think he actually was drunk. Missy didn’t know this guy, but she liked him all the same. His deep voice and patient way. His trailer was bedecked with wood paneling and there was a stuffed cat’s head – swear to God – on the wall. Not like a lion’s head or something like that, this was like a house cat’s head, right there on the wall above where Silas was sitting in his high-backed chair, conducting this interview. Because that’s what this was, like it or not: an interview. This morning Missy had felt free as a bird, like the world belonged to her. This felt a little different, like summer camp – not that she’d ever been to summer camp! She was nervous, but for right now, she figured she was still on an adventure.
Silas looked at her askance, but it was just him thinking twice. ‘I was going to do this sitting down, Missy, but I changed my mind,’ he said. ‘What do you say we take a turn in the woods near here? It’s a pleasant day outside. We can walk and talk.’
‘I’m cool with that,’ said Missy. ‘I like trees – I think!’
‘Excellent,’ Silas said.
It was a pine forest. A little cooler than Missy expected. The only trees she’d known so far were the tall palms that lined Versailles’ private beach. This was a real forest, the kind with bobcats and mountain lions and bears. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her wrists and turned the collar up on her polo shirt. The forest was very still and the early afternoon sun was only allowed through the canopy as fans of blinding light. The boy with no name ran ahead, hiding behind trees and staging the occasional am-bush armed with small pine cones, all the while carrying his white rabbit in a small backpack with its head and ears sticking out. Despite her best efforts to keep up with Silas’s tall strides, Missy answered most of his questions to his leather-jacketed back and rough, sunburned neck.
‘The car crash you witnessed, Missy, how did it make you feel?
Missy nearly tripped over a tree root but kept her balance, arms spread wide like an airplane. ‘How could you know about that? There’s no way you could know about that.’
‘Answer the question,’ Silas said, his tone remaining easy.
‘It made me feel . . . It made
me feel . . . nothing,’ Missy said. ‘But I wanted to, I mean – I’m not a psycho or anything – like, I cry all the time! Seriously, when I was a kid? I nursed a little bird back to health and it flew again. And this other time? Me and my brother River raced our pet tortoises, but they kind of went in circles so we built them this racetrack so they would go in a straight line? And that worked for a while but they were really slow, so River figured out this way of fixing wheels on the back . . . wait . . .’ Missy stopped in her tracks. ‘I’m a psycho, aren’t I? I just told you a story a psycho person would tell. Can we pretend I never said any of that? I have empathy, mister, I honestly do. Like, some-times, when I’m talking to my mom, I’ll say the right thing and make her feel better. And I once posted a video of a baby elephant trying to get out of a paddling pool and it got 7000 likes!’
Silas laughed heartily but didn’t turn around. ‘I know you’re not a psychopath, Missy. The question wasn’t diag-nostic. I merely wanted to hear what you had to say on the matter. Let’s go back further. I want you to think about somewhere that makes you happy; a place that when you’re there, you feel good. Can you do that for me, Missy?’
‘Sure, a place I feel happy. The swimming pool at my parents’ house made me happy, but—’ Missy interrupted herself and started again. ‘I’m outside, the sun’s shining, I haven’t been in the water yet, but I’m about to. The wind rustling the palm trees . . . Is that the kind of thing?’
‘This might seem like a strange question,’ Silas said, ‘but how old are you as you’re imagining the swimming pool?’
‘I . . . I guess I’m the age I am now. Sixteen,’ Missy said, ‘No, wait.’ She came to a standstill and closed her eyes and set the scene again. The outdoor pool at Versailles. Saturday sun reflecting off the water, River diving from the lowest of three concrete platforms, knees bent, arms out, palms down, a hesitation so slight but Missy saw it, and that was it, that was what Silas meant. It was like he read her mind. Missy nearly opened her eyes, but not yet. River. He was there and she saw him hesitate. This wasn’t now, this was memory. This really happened. She and her brother, playing together in the swimming pool, their parents elsewhere, an afternoon with no end, the unexpected breeze across the water. Flying crocodile. River running as fast as he could after their inflatable crocodile as it rolled away from them into the air, flipping and flipping again until it almost reached the ocean, but he got it.