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Wired Page 8

by Caytlyn Brooke


  I bite my lower lip, wishing there was another way.

  “Hey,” Jeremy says.

  I look at him and feel calm. He did promise. I awkwardly climb on, pulling myself up with help from the handles. Because of my pencil skirt, I have very limited range of motion and end up sitting like a woman in the 17th century riding a horse sidesaddle.

  “Ready?” Jeremy asks, already programming the hoverbike with the address of our office building.

  “Yes, can you please make this thing go fast?” I plead, clutching the edge of the seat with both hands.

  “Sure, but I think these things cap out at like eight miles per hour,” Jeremy replies, hitting the green arrow with the pad of his thumb. “Here we go!”

  “Wait!” I cry out, one hand wrapped securely around the edge of the seat while the other flashes out to grip the handlebar. “Where are the seatbelts?”

  Jeremy throws his head back and laughs in his casual way. “It’s a bike! Just relax and enjoy it!”

  The hoverbike takes off, zooming along the fabricated track. The gray buildings and thinning trees race by in a blur as we dodge pedestrians and stray birds. I want to shut my eyes but I can’t. It’s exciting and so different from my bland everyday commute that I want to let go and shout with joy.

  “This is amazing!” I cry as the rail curves and sends us shooting around the corner. Numerous people dot the sidewalk but the hoverbike doesn’t hit one. Faster and faster we speed along, covering multiple blocks in under a minute.

  “I’m glad you like it!” Jeremy calls over his shoulder and for a moment I feel like I’m on the back of his motorcycle, racing along a country back road in a romance novel. The warm August wind flows through my hair, and I don’t even care about the tangles I’ll have later. I inhale the subtle crisp of early autumn air and close my eyes, invigorated by the city.

  “Why don’t more people ride these?” I ask, unable to hide the amusement on my face as we reach the street that our building is rooted to.

  Jeremy turns slightly. All I can see is the bridge of his nose and his full lower lip. “They do. You’re just not looking. Most people are too busy looking down.” It sounds like an accusation.

  My cheeks redden. Is he talking about me? I push away the thought; I am unwilling to let sour thoughts ruin the last few minutes of the ride. I turn to the left and see another tandem hoverbike approaching us. Two guys are riding it, both dressed like models from J.Crew. I raise my hand to wave as we roll past one another, but they’re looking down, heads bent over the screen of their iJewels. The ridges of their vertebrae poke out of their pressed collars, creating strange ripples to their silhouettes.

  We pass by and the moment is gone; the guys are on their way to their own destination in the opposite direction.

  They’re always looking down.

  I press the heel of my palms into my eyelids, leaning away from the computer screen and try to stifle a yawn. I’ve been working non-stop since lunch with Jeremy and my eyes are burning.

  “See you later, Maggie,” my cubicle mate Martin calls.

  I glance up and see the back of his balding head, along with the routine sweat patch soaking through his pastel-colored shirt. “See you tomorrow,” I say through another yawn.

  Martin turns and looks at me. “Today’s Friday, Maggie—”

  I shake my head and rub my face once more. “Really? Even better.” I laugh weakly. “Have a good weekend then, Martin.” Martin shuffles away and I check the time on the computer screen. Two minutes past five.

  “Knock, knock,” Jeremy says, his voice amused. “Still at it?”

  I turn in my chair and throw my left arm over the back, facing him. “Oh yeah. No rest for the wicked.” I bat my eyelashes.

  “Yeah, you’re like the farthest thing from wicked. More like the fluffy bunny that eats the flowers outside the witch’s house,” he says with a snort.

  I roll my eyes and spin away. “Whatever. You’d be surprised. I can be downright nasty.”

  I hear Jeremy chuckle behind me. “I’d like to see that,” he whispers, no longer teasing. I feel a rush of heat pulse down my stomach and my cheeks blush.

  “So, you taking off for the night?” I ask, tossing my hair. Hopefully I look sexy and don’t resemble an awkward giraffe.

  Jeremy taps the side of the cubicle and sighs. “Yeah, ready to relax. How about you?” His voice sounds hopeful.

  I scrunch my nose and look at him over my shoulder. “Almost, but I have to finish this last chapter up. I’ll stress about it all weekend if I don’t.” I roll my eyes, wishing that was an exaggeration.

  Jeremy smirks and taps the wall one more time, rattling my waterfall calendar with the motion. “All right, well, leave tomorrow night open. I want to take you somewhere.” Butterflies flutter in my gut. “Have a good night, Maggie.” He pivots on his heels and walks around the corner, out of sight.

  “Night!” I call, sighing contently. Now I’ll actually have something to look forward to this weekend besides following Andy and Sarah around like an annoying mosquito. “All right,” I say to myself, fairly certain I’m the last one here. “Let’s get you wrapped up.”

  Forty minutes later, I turn off my computer at last and slip on my raincoat. Rolling my neck in a lazy circle, I hear it crack and pop in several places. Wow, it’s been a long day. I shut off my desk lamp and gather my bags.

  My iJewel chimes as I step into the elevators, alerting me that I have two unseen streams from Sarah and almost forty notifications between My World and Vanity, the latest gossip column I subscribe to.

  The elevator begins its smooth descent while I open Sarah’s latest message, and my miniature roommate appears, hovering over my iJewel with her tiny arms crossed. “Hey, why didn’t you respond earlier? I needed to know whether you wanted vodka or wine so me being me, I got both! Andy’s coming over at six thirty but he’ll probably beat you here anyway,” she says knowingly. “Oh, and pick up some candy or something. You know I need sugar after I do shots. Bye!” The tiny hologram sizzles, effectively cutting off the message.

  The elevator doors softly announce our arrival and I let my coat sleeve fall back over my iJewel. For the past two years I’ve been waiting for Sarah to realize it isn’t fun anymore, but I guess she’d rather run off to Neverland every other night.

  I approach the double doors and see the weekend security guard, whose name I haven’t learned. “I’m the last one,” I apologize, motioning toward the ceiling with my index finger.

  “All right, you have a good night, miss,” the heavyweight guard says, holding the door open for me.

  I step out into the cool night air and suck in my breath. What a difference from this afternoon. I turn to the left and start walking, passing by a quiet row of hoverbikes. My heart flutters as I remember my ride earlier and I debate renting another one for the trip home. A cold wind ripples through my hair and down the back of my collar, giving me goose bumps. No, I think I’ll stick with the subway tonight.

  One block and two flights of stairs later, I’m underground, fiddling in my purse for some ChapStick when my fingers brush across a cool metal object. I withdraw my copper Vertix from the side pouch and take a seat in one of the singular chairs rooted to the wall. I haven’t connected since the installation process, and the thought of letting my mind wander aimlessly through the vast ocean of social media for a few minutes sounds wonderful.

  “Water Street first,” the robotic voice reports overhead.

  Great, I have at least ten minutes before my stop. Elated, I swipe my finger along the back of the small device.

  Waking to life, the tiny sensors extend from the bottom of the machine, reminding me once again of the legs of a beetle. Slightly disgusted, I pull my long hair over my shoulder to expose my neck and carefully lower the Vertix onto my skin. I cringe as the sensors scan my flesh quickly, then plunge into the muscles with expert precision.

  Just as before, the world before me blurs, swirling until my visio
n is coated in a white cloud. Right away I realize that my left eye can still see the elderly Asian man sitting across from me. The split screen is nice, but not necessary at the moment. I want to escape reality and drift like a canoe upon the waves. I close my eyes and wait for the thrill of the connection.

  Welcome, Maggie. Choose a destination, the rich, velvety voice whispers in my mind.

  “Acceleration,” I say aloud, launching the virtual reality app I tried the night of the Vertix launch.

  Acceleration, the voice repeats and my palms tingle as my excitement builds. Now that I have an app in mind, the Vertix can complete the connection to my occipital lobe, and the ride is the best part.

  As if strapped into the front car of a roller coaster, the Vertix shoots me forward through the swirling white space, numerous colors bleeding into the blank canvas. Take me away. Seconds later I’m sitting in an enchanted garden, the sun warm on my face.

  Lazy bees drone in front of me, searching for vibrant flowers while beautiful monarch butterflies ride the warm breeze. A soft groan sounds and I realize I’m swinging. My fingers reach out, curious. Rough, knotted fabric meets their touch and the trees the hammock is suspended from groan again as the gentle wind sifts through them.

  “This is paradise,” I whisper, tilting my head and arching my back toward the glorious sunshine. I close my eyes but the image is undisturbed, like a wonderful dream. The rich smell of lilacs and freshly cut grass flavors the air and I begin to drift off to sleep beneath the spell of the hammock’s motion.

  “Next stop, Cedar Street,” a robotic voice shouts, slicing through my perfect moment of peace.

  Cedar Street? I’ve gone too far. How did I miss all the stops in between?

  Disoriented, I bolt upright and open my eyes. Light floods into my left eye, replacing the darkened space with the bold yellow and orange subway seats. The little Asian man sitting across from me is gone. The picturesque garden scene continues to shine in my right eye. All I want to do is sit back down and enjoy the sweet-scented meadow, but I’ve already missed my stop. If I don’t get off now, I have no idea where I’ll end up.

  Hiking my bags onto my shoulder, I stand, stumbling a little as I try to navigate the two worlds. Hundreds of people do it, it can’t be that hard.

  As I walk into the middle of the train car, I leave the hammock behind. I can feel the soft grass under the soles of my feet while I breathe in the stale air circulating in the train car. The two conflicting worlds are jarring. The train car slows to a stop as we approach the platform, metal wheels squealing, another sharp disruption to my beautiful garden. This is too much; I can’t focus on both at the same time.

  I reach up to disconnect the Vertix, but my fingers hesitate. My heart is pounding, fast and energized, but my mind is swirling, detached from the stress of the busy work day and commute home. It feels too good. I don’t want to shut it off. I close my eyes again as the subway screeches to a halt, pulling my body to the left, but within the Vertix, I’m climbing a hill, the smell of rich dirt and sunflowers so fresh, so real. The back of my neck hums with energy where the Vertix is attached, pulsing bright sparks throughout my brain and body. I can do this.

  The doors slide open with a soft whoosh and I wobble to the edge. A narrow black chasm separates me from the concrete platform and my stomach flips. The sensors holding the door ping, alerting me I am taking too long. Walk forward.

  Slowly, I cross the threshold, setting one heel on the rough surface. A woman bumps into me as she hops onto the train. I catch the dirty look she throws my way as I bring my other foot up. I feel like a toddler learning to walk. The beautiful meadow stretches before me, parallel to the dirty subway. On the right side of my face, the sun burns, warming my skin as if I were really standing in the bright rays.

  I shuffle my feet along the grimy concrete, unsteady on my thin heels. Numerous people waiting for the T on the other side are eyeing me with suspicion. This is ridiculous, you can barely walk. Just disconnect and get home. My face flushes a dark pink as more strangers turn to stare. I reach the bottom of the staircase leading up to the next level and hover on the lowest step. Again, my hand reaches for the Vertix, ready to shut it down. I touch the warm device and a fresh wave of euphoria washes over me.

  My hand drops back down to my side and I inhale deeply, the thick, underground air filling my lungs. “I can do this,” I decide.

  Determined to get home without looking like a mental case, I stride up the stairs, increasing my pace exponentially. Once I reach the top, a forest breaks over the horizon, reminding me of a fairytale. In reality, I’m staring at the dirty subway station. A homeless man and his dog slouch against the automated machines, limp cardboard separating their fleas from the floor. I imagine he smells of old urine and stale body odor, but the offensive scent can’t reach me within the beautiful app. My shoe kicks an old, frayed McDonald’s cup, spraying sticky brown liquid across the grimy tiles. I wrinkle my nose in disgust. I need to get out of here.

  Quickly I move toward another set of stairs leading up to the street, careful to give the homeless guy a very wide berth. My anxiety clears the higher I climb and soon I’m standing on the surface, surrounded by the illuminated city. The faint tang of salty air helps clear my head and I glance around for a street sign, trying to pinpoint just how far away from home I am. I spy a small pub, O’Ryan’s, across the street.

  “Great, I’m not that far away. I just missed my stop by two,” I say aloud, turning right and heading back uptown. My stomach growls and I consider stopping in for a quick bite. “No, forget it, just get home.” My heels echo loudly as I make my way down the quiet street. There’s only a few other commuters on their way home around me. Everyone else must be gearing up for a fun Friday night.

  The sidewalk is clear up ahead and I switch my attention back to the wide forest spanning out in my right eye. Colorful birds flit from branch to branch and the trees dance gracefully above. Any minute now I expect a baby deer to walk out and greet me. I step between two trees and the forest comes alive. The steady hum of cicadas and crickets call out happily to one another and tiny bunnies race along fallen logs and moss-covered stumps. Did I open the Snow White app?

  The thought gives me another. I should try something else now. There is so much to be explored still, I shouldn’t stay in the forest any longer. “Wall Art,” I command. Instantly the happy woods melt away, the natural colors bleaching to the pale white room with endless picture frames sprouting from the floor. I walk over to one half my size and see Sarah and Andy posed in front of the camera, their eyes closed and lips locked together passionately.

  I sigh, still slightly irritated by their relationship. They’re not wasting any time. Without pause, I lean into the frame, stepping down to land in the kitchen of my apartment. “Hey, guys.”

  There is no response as I watch my brother dance with Sarah in the small space. They don’t answer, don’t acknowledge me, because technically I’m not part of the memory. I’m just an active spectator.

  “Do you think I can flip you over my back?” Andy threatens, pulling Sarah closer.

  “Yeah right! Don’t even think about it! With my luck I’ll kick the sauce and you’ll be eating cheerios tonight,” Sarah cries, twirling away from him.

  Andy catches her by the waist and lifts, wrapping her legs around his torso. “And what if I do think about it?” he teases, pretending to drop her. I suddenly get the feeling they’re no longer talking about dancing.

  Sarah shrieks and slaps his shoulder, her thigh hold on him apparently strong. “No way, mister. I have to make sure this doesn’t burn.” She reaches for the wooden spoon placed precariously on the edge of the counter.

  “I’m a great multi-tasker,” Andy says, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, careful to avoid the pink Vertix capturing the scene through the projectable camera.

  “I can’t argue with that.” Sarah brings her lips to meet his and her eyelids flutter closed. The image freezes, c
apturing their love in its most pure and perfect state.

  I grimace. “I should have seen this coming.” I leave the picture frame behind. Back on the street, I’ve reached a new block. Hopefully I’ll be home within ten minutes. “Let’s try something else,” I mutter. “Vertix…can you take me to a game?”

  Of course, Maggie, the Vertix whispers. Launching, Crash Dome.

  The picture frames all begin to disappear, some disintegrating, some flying up and out of sight. Something heavy weighs down my right hand. I shift my gaze and see a heavy bat, covered from end to end in written disclosures. What does all that say? A bright yellow object flashes out of the corner of my eye and I gasp. A yellow blur is speeding toward me. I can’t outrun a vision.

  Without thinking, I grip the bat in both hands. My bags bang against my ribs roughly, but I have to play. The blur is almost on top of me. With a large groan, I swing the bat as hard as I can and connect with the ball of death. The two objects collide and the yellow ball ricochets off the bat, flying back the way it came. It soars across a light blue sky, smacking into a row of pink blocks with a resounding crash. The pink rows crumble like smashed bricks, depositing on the cartoon-like grass in a large pile.

  Two hundred and forty points! a deep voice roars, along with a round of applause from an invisible audience. Uh-oh! Here comes another one!

  From my left races a red blur, but because my vision doesn’t extend into my other eye, it is already much closer than the previous one. The red ball doesn’t slow and socks me in the gut. I gasp, clutching my stomach as I double over. It didn’t hurt, but it definitely knocked the wind out of me.

  “Hey, are you all right?” a concerned voice asks from afar.

  Another blur hurtles toward me, this one dark blue. I try to dodge out of the way but my arms are held fast and the blue ball hits me in the chest, causing a huge whoosh of air to fall from my lips.

  “Should we call an ambulance? What’s wrong with her?” a second voice asks.

 

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