by A. L. Davroe
“Is that what this is all about? You factor into this boy’s game?” Straightening, Meems clasps her hands in front of her. “Well, maybe he’s part of your game? Did you consider that? Maybe, whomever it is you just met in there will be a new friend, someone they cannot take away from you.”
She lets that sink in for a moment. And I can’t help but pick out that she says “they.” We talked yesterday about my strange captivity, about Katrina, about the fact that Meems seems unable to execute any method to save me. Someone reprogrammed her. And Katrina, I’m certain, isn’t smart enough to do it. Someone else is behind this. But why? To what end? Meems continues, cutting off my thoughts. “Do you not want to play with him? You seemed to enjoy his company.”
I sigh. I do want to play with Guster. I liked being with him. “I want him to want to be with me because he likes being with me, not because he’s forced to be with me or because he wants something from me. That’s not how friendship should be.”
She unclasps her hands and plants them on her hips. “That may be, but are you willing to tell me you do not ever want to see the sky again? No grass or trees, either? I thought you were going in there to live. Being forced to be with people and learning to like them is part of life.”
And really? I don’t ever not want to see Guster again, either. “Point taken.” I bite my lip. “But what am I going to say to him?”
She shrugs. “Who cares about him? Do what you want.”
I jerk a nod. “All right, let me just write Delia a quick note.” I need to tell Delia about the thing called reality television. She would have loved it.
Guster is waiting for me when I materialize back in the empty square. He’s sitting on the edge of the fountain. When he sees me he stands and opens his mouth, but something in my expression gives him pause. For a moment I stare at him, daring him to move an inch closer to me. I can’t do this. I don’t have the courage to rail and fuss that he’s a terrible Prince Charming. I’m not ready to admit that I might actually like him as more than a friend. I turn on my heel and stalk away from him.
“Ella,” he yells after me.
“Leave me alone,” I growl. I can hear his footsteps behind me, following me. I quicken my pace until I’m running down the street. People are staring at us, trying to decide whether they should intervene.
“No,” he says back. “I’m not going to leave you alone. Look, would you just stop and talk to me for a minute?” he demands, his voice straining over the noise of the market.
I run harder, my feet pounding out a rhythm against the road, my heart thudding and my breaths coming in quick gasps. I know I can’t outrun him. His stats are probably higher than mine. He’s probably got way better physical strength and stamina. I’ll tire out faster than him. Maybe I should stop and let him talk, if only to catch my breath? As if on cue, he tackles me from behind, making both of us tumble limb over head into a pile of crunchy yellow stuff.
I immediately start trying to fight him, punching and kicking, but he wrestles my arms down and sits on me, pinning me. I lay under him huffing, trying my best to struggle, but he can easily hold me down without even hurting me. His eyes are bright, and his breath is sweet on my face. Despite the heat of Garibal, the warmth of his body is a thrilling comfort.
“Circuits, you’re one hardheaded girl,” he breathes. “It’s a damn good thing you’re cute.”
I go still. “D-Do you really think I’m cute?” My cheeks heat.
He grins at me. “I don’t chase ugly girls. You mind explaining what I did to get your sparks flying?”
I turn my head, not wanting to look into his eyes, and mumble, “I don’t want to be a side quest.”
“Is that what you’re freaking out about?” His tone has that women are so dramatic quality to it.
Frowning, I blush harder, not liking how he isn’t taking me seriously or how painful the idea of him not wanting to be with me is. It’s silly to have gotten so attached to him so fast, but I can’t really help it. I guess I had just hoped everything in the game would be perfect, and when I saw him and he seemed interested (and he kissed me), I foolishly assumed he was part of that perfection.
A long silence passes between us. He’s watching me; I can feel his eyes on me. Sensing that I’m not going to struggle, his muscles ease up, his fingers unhinging and brushing along my arms.
Finally, he says, “I was told that you could help me in my quest, so I came looking for you.” He reaches out and hooks a finger under my chin, turning my face toward him. “I didn’t know what to expect. You’re a pleasant surprise.”
I scowl, trying not to show how good his words make me feel. “Right. And how am I supposed to believe a word coming out of your mouth? You might do or say anything to get me to do what you want from me.”
One corner of his mouth curls up, giving him a crooked, dimpled smirk. “Except, I don’t know what to say or do to get you to believe me.”
“Why should I believe you?”
His brow creases, confused. “You know, I have no idea. It’s not like I’m a terribly trustworthy person. Even in real life I’m nothing but a fake and a liar—and I’m a thief in this game, you know? I’m on a quest to get to the Central Dominion, break into the Anansi Chamber, and steal the Dominion’s treasures. I’m sure you’re not at all interested in something like that.”
Despite his admissions, he just seems more intriguing. And Anansi? I lift my head. “Anansi Chamber? What’s that?”
He sits back, allowing me to sit up and squirm out from under him if I wanted to, but I don’t move. “I don’t know. All I know is that’s my quest and the Oracle told me to keep an eye out for people with the mark.”
“Mark?”
He shifts slightly and shows me the tattoo on his shoulder. Upon seeing my own clueless face he reaches down and tugs at the leather vest I’m wearing. “You’ve got it on your back.”
Not quite believing him, I sit up and unlace the vest. I can see it before I even pull the whole thing from my body. A giant white spider sewn into the black leather of the vest. “What does that have to do with a-a?” I point at his shoulder, uncertain of what the dog-thing even is.
“A fox? They’re both Tricksters,” Guster says matter-of-factly. “We’re all Tricksters. The Oracle said to find those with the marks. Spider, fox, coyote, crow, rabbit. Together, we’ll be able to get to the Chamber.”
I shrug the vest back on and give him a long hard look. “You just want me to come with you so I can help you get into this chamber, is that it?”
He gnaws his lip, thoughtful. “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you that I had no idea you were the person I was looking for until you got up off that crate, would you?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Probably not.”
He sits down next to me. “Whether you believe it or not, it’s the truth. How could I see your back while you were sitting?” he asks. “I started talking to you because I thought you were beautiful and looked like you needed someone to talk to. I wouldn’t do that in real life; it’s not my style. But well, this is a game. I figure getting rejected here wouldn’t be as bad as in Real World. Plus,” he adds a little shyly, “I’ve probably got a better chance with someone like you here than out there.”
I stare at him for a long, dizzying minute. He’s way too good to be true. “Boy, you sure do know how to sugarcoat something, don’t you? No wonder you call yourself a trickster.”
He laughs to himself and shakes his head. “I’m inclined to say whether or not you were the person I was looking for, I’d still ask you to come with me. Every knight needs his lady, every thief needs his reason not to get his hands cut off.” He reaches out and brushes his fingers up my arm. “Getting to touch you is pretty damn good incentive.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. I smack his hand away. “Okay, Shakespeare, lay it on any thicker and you’ll drown us
both in poetic goo.”
“Who’s that?”
“Some dead guy who wrote poems and plays, though I can’t seem to find any in the Archive.”
“Hmm,” he breathes. “Shame. I like poems.”
For a moment the reminder of everything humanity lost of itself, leaving us with so little to remember, keeps us silent. Then Guster turns his head toward me. “So, you going to come with me?”
I lay back in the bristly yellow stuff—I think it’s dried grass or something—and look up at the sky. If what Guster says is true—that the Oracle told him what he is and what his quest is, that means that I don’t have a quest. Or perhaps that means my quest is Guster’s quest. The strings did lead me here. The spider will find her comrades in trickery. The Oracle said that. I have a spider on my back. Guster calls himself a trickster, so maybe that does mean I’m supposed to go with him.
Guster lies down beside me. I look over at him; he’s staring at the sky, the clouds sliding over his eyes. I can think of worse things than being a thief’s reason not to get his hands cut off. But I say, “I suppose being a trickster isn’t the worst.”
He closes his eyes and grins. “Is that a reluctant yes?”
Is it? If I say no, then he’ll probably go on his quest and leave me behind. I’m not ready to say good-bye to the mystery of this boy with a fox tattoo. “If I go, it’s not as a pawn,” I say, trying to sound reasonable. “For my own reasons, I want to see and experience this game. A quest would be perfect for that. And I’m curious about this Anansi Chamber thing.” Very curious. Anansi. The spider. The trickster. The Oracle named me. She called me spider, she called me Anansi Child… So, does that make me a trickster, too? Does that link me to the Chamber? Isn’t that why Guster wants me to come?
I look back up at the sky and close my eyes, savoring this moment of certainty. “Yeah,” I say. “I’ll go with you.”
His hand finds mine in the dried grass and squeezes it. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Post-American Date: 7/4/231
Longitudinal Timestamp: 3:03 p.m.
Location: Free Zone, Garibal; Nexis
Guster keeps his hand in mine as we walk back down the street, as if he needs to reassure me that I’m not just some object. Either that, or he’s afraid I’m going to run away again.
“I didn’t realize we’d gone so far,” I say, feeling like an idiot for running like I did. I don’t know what I wanted to accomplish by running from him. Escape, obviously, but I knew he’d catch me. Maybe I wanted to see if he’d follow me?
He looks up at the sky. “It’s too late in the day to leave now. We can stay the night at my place and leave tomorrow.”
I stop short, my hand tugging out of his. “Stay the night? Together?”
He glances back at me and smirks that devilish smirk of his. “Yeah. You didn’t really think it through all the way when you said yes, did you?”
I avoid his eyes by fussing with the pleats of my skirt. “Sleeping hadn’t really crossed my mind, no.”
“It should have. You have to sleep here, too; your avatar doesn’t just keep going. You have to feed and take care of yourself here just like you do in Real World. Granted, you don’t need as much of either food or sleep, but you do still need it.”
I bite the inside of my lip. “But I don’t feel tired,” I reason. It’s not entirely a lie. I feel pretty wired, especially now that he just suggested spending the night at his place.
He bends down, catching my gaze, and narrows an eye at me. “How many times have you come in so far?”
“Three,” I say slowly, double checking in my mind. “Yeah, three.”
“So, about thirteen hours. Usually your first time in you can go for about twenty-four before your health points start to drop.” He glances at his wrist, checking his own stats. “I’m not that lucky, mine are already starting to drop, so you’re going to have to at least take a nap. We need to align our bio clocks.”
I make a clueless expression.
He takes my hand and starts walking again. “If you and I are going to play together, we’re going to have to synchronize ourselves. Eat and sleep at the same time, log into the game at the same time. It won’t do for one of us to pop out early. It’s annoying and could completely destroy a job.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I tried to pop in when I thought you’d be back today, but apparently you weren’t exactly waiting on the alarm.”
I scrunch my shoulders. “Sorry.”
He nods once. “That can’t happen anymore. You need to log in right when the alarm goes off. Does your schedule in Real World allow you to do that regularly?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty free.” I say with a half laugh. “So, um, how do we synchronize?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he says. “Let’s get someplace safe first.”
I nod at his back as we reenter the empty square.
“Hop on.” He gestures to the two-wheeled vehicle.
I swing an awkward leg over the seat, hunch over the body, and grab the lower set of handholds. He gets on behind me and mirrors my position, cupping my body and placing his hands on the control levers above mine. Trying not to think about his hard form against mine, I hyper-focus as his thumb flicks a switch and the vehicle springs to life, the strange shield shooting out and around us so that we’re enclosed in an egg-shaped bubble.
Guster lifts a foot and taps my calf, letting me know I can put my feet up. I do so, allowing my weight to lean against the body rest and the handles as I plant my toes into the lower set of footholds. He twists his wrist, easing the vehicle forward, and lifts his own legs, his body resting heavily against mine for a brief moment while he finds the footholds, and then his body goes back to gently molding against mine. He twists his wrist farther, demanding more speed. For a moment, the engine just hums, gaining momentum. And then, we shoot forward—so fast that the back end skids—but Guster shifts his weight to one side, his body guiding mine to follow, and tipping the vehicle against the fall.
We zip across the square and between two buildings. Guster guides it expertly, hugging corners and urging it through tiny cobbled alleys with the ease of someone well practiced, his body training mine on how to ride the strange contraption. In less than ten minutes we blast through a narrow underpass, and we’re suddenly on an open dirt road. Guster lets her open up, the distance between Garibal and our unknown destination growing by the nanosecond.
When I finally catch my breath, certain we’re not going to crash and comfortable enough with his body held so intimately around mine to speak, I yell, “What is this thing?”
“It’s a vivacycle, modeled after a futuristic version of a cartoon motorcycle,” he yells back. “I designed it myself—you like it?”
“I don’t understand a word you just said, but yes, I like it.” Then I say, “It’s a little loud.”
Guster chuckles in my ear, the feel of it rumbling down my spine and the back of my thighs. “It’s how you know you’re alive.”
He shifts his weight—I assume adjusting his foot in the holder—pressing himself against my backside. I blush harder. Oh, I’m definitely alive. I clear my throat. “Where are we going?”
He settles back down, and he somehow feels even closer now, his face close to my ear. “Base camp. The others will want to meet you.” His voice rumbles along my ribs, sending electricity back and forth until my toes curl.
Others? And here I thought it was just going to be us. “What others?”
“There’s more than just us wanting to get into the Anansi Chamber. They’ve all got their reasons. You’ll like them, I think.”
Time passes, the ground disappearing beneath us, though it seems darker now. Everything does. Curious, I lift my head and gasp. Above us is a vast emptiness filled with black silk and tiny white lights. Guster slo
ws the vivacycle and comes to a halt. As the shield opens, letting the cool air touch our sweaty bodies, he sits up and draws in a giant breath.
I sit up, too, my eyes still on the sky. “What happened?” I ask, turning to him.
“Hmm?” He looks at me, eyes bright as those lights above. I’d forgotten how beautiful he is to look at, especially now in the gentle dark-light. Meems was right, natural things can be very beautiful, you just need to open your eyes and look.
I point upward. “Where’d the sun go? And why’d the sky get so dark? I thought there weren’t radiation clouds here.”
He smiles and looks up. “It’s the night sky, Elle. The real one. Not at all what we see on the nano-dome, is it?”
I stare at him, now certain that he can’t be an AI created for my game. He’s a real person. Someone from inside the dome, like me. Someone who chose to be a Natural inside this game. He’s a Naturalist sympathizer. Someone who might actually love me for me in real life, and that makes my heart pound harder.
A strange noise sounds off to my left; I turn to it, confused as to why it seems so familiar. It takes me a moment to realize that it reminds me of a sound clip I heard from Dad’s encyclopedia file on dogs. In the distance is a small cottage, a black outline against the deep blue horizon, the windows ablaze with yellow light. The door opens, and the figure of a female steps into view. A large furry creature blasts past her and comes hurtling toward us, disappearing in the deep darkness before leaping up again and coming to lay both its paws on Guster’s thigh.
I stare at it, amazed. “Is that a-a-”
Guster laughs and scrubs his fingers through the animal’s sandy coat. “This is Dune.”
Tentative, I reach out, wanting to touch it, but the creature turns its head at the last minute and bastes me with a broad pink tongue. “Ugh,” I wail, pulling my hand away and scrubbing it against my leg.