I stretch my arms over my head just as my body unleashes the most ferocious growl yet. I glance down and laugh. “Obviously the first thing I need to do is eat some actual food.”
“Yeah, that might not be a bad idea,” Andy agrees. “When was the last time you ate anything?”
“Last…last night I think, no, maybe I had lunch. I at least had a granola bar I’m pretty sure,” I answer, not confident, but not worried either. “Whatever, but I might go to the park. Weather Cat said it was going to reach sixty degrees today.”
Andy scoffs again. “You and Weather Cat. I really don’t see why you like that thing so much. I have mine set up to modify my perception of the environment exactly as it is outside. That way I’m not surprised when I step out.”
I roll my eyes and deposit the empty cereal bowl in the sink before resuming rummaging through the cupboards. We’re out of everything again. Sarah is really slacking this week. At last my fingers find a crinkly object and a victorious smile stretches across my lips. “Tada!” I shout, holding up a silver-packaged Pop-Tart.
Andy wrinkles his nose. “How old is that?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit as I open the flimsy wrapper. The smell of artificial strawberry wafts out. I frown. Strawberry is not my preferred flavor. Tentatively I pull out the first rectangular pastry, inspecting it for any moldy spots. My gut rumbles again, threatening to rip me in two. Expired or not, I don’t have much choice.
I bite the Pop-Tart in half. It’s stale, but apart from the nauseating flavor it’s not that bad. I swallow the first bite, feeling it land with a sticky plop. I shove the rest of the food down my throat, my stomach at last quieting to a low grumble. “So do you want to go?”
“What?” Andy asks a moment later, coming out of the virtual world.
“Do you want to come to the park with me while Sarah gets ready? It’s just around the corner,” I say, pointing toward the door.
Andy glances over his shoulder, as if the park is behind him. “Eh, I don’t know. I think I’ll just chill here. My Vertix has been having some issues with the battery lately so I don’t want to stray too far in case I need to throw it on the charger. I tell you, they really need to fix this so the battery is endless. It took an hour for my Vertix to charge back up the other day,” my brother says, his eyes wide.
“I know, the same thing happened to me the other day at work and I didn’t have my charger on me so I took a sick day for the rest of the afternoon,” I recall, tossing the silver wrapper in the trash. Andy nods, his attention already straying. “All right, so I’ll see you later then. Have fun shopping!” I grab my sweatshirt off the back of the kitchen chair and walk toward the door.
Andy snaps out of it and tilts his head. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” he asks, referring to my faded sweatpants and stained long-sleeved shirt.
I shake my head. “Nah, this is fine. I’m not going anywhere special. See ya,” I call over my shoulder, pulling my keys off the hook. I open the door and slip outside into the cool November air.
Five minutes later I’m around the corner, only a few short minutes away from the park. Weather Cat was right. The sun is shining and there’s a slight breeze rustling the last few leaves hanging on to the naked trees. I inhale the crisp air, loving the way the cool wind swirls inside my lungs. My sneakers leave the rough sidewalk in exchange for the browning grass. Several candy wrappers blow across the small field and I kick the nearest one, a Whopper, with the toe of my shoe. Smiling, I imagine an eager child dressed as a witch tearing open the weak plastic to reach the sweet chocolate inside.
Happy shouts and delighted screams reach my ears as I near the playground. I’m surprised there’s only one family here for such a nice day. My expression brightens as I take in the little boy coloring on the edge of the blacktop leading to the basketball court.
“Mama, Mama! Watch how high I can go!” a little voice cries.
I follow the high-pitched instructions and see a little girl in a pink sweatshirt and dark jeans swinging on one of the four swings a few yards away from her brother. Her face is full of fierce determination as her little legs pump uselessly through the air. I stop and watch her, impressed at the gradual momentum as she begins to climb higher and higher.
“Whoo-hoo! Mama, Mama, look at how fast I’m going!” she shouts again, her tiny voice desperate.
I shove my hands in my fleece pocket and make my way to the unoccupied bench in front of the playground, smiling even wider as the little girl’s white blonde ponytail bounces in the breeze.
“Mama, are you watching?” the girl asks again.
I glance around. Where is this child’s mother? Why isn’t she answering? A flash of white flickers in the corner of my eye and I flinch, startled. Standing behind the bench I’m sitting on is a young woman about my age. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail and she isn’t wearing a coat. I’m shocked I didn’t see her before. Her long-sleeved shirt is very bright against the stark brown landscape. Like me, she’s wearing a pair of faded sweatpants.
“Mama, I’m over here,” the girl tries again.
I wrinkle my nose and follow the woman’s stare. Maybe she is looking at her daughter after all—no, no she isn’t. The breeze shifts, picking up the woman’s ponytail and lifting it off her neck. A dark blue Vertix clings there like a beautiful leech. I frown. She could be watching a million different things, but I know for a fact it isn’t the cute little girl begging for her attention.
“Mama?” the little girl cries, tears in her voice. Her tiny legs stop pumping and the swing slows. I hear a sniffle and look away from the dejected child, feeling tears sting the back of my eyes.
It’s none of my business, but the girl reminds me of the child I saw months ago at the Cheesecake Factory. All he wanted was his mother’s attention as well, but like now, there was something bigger that pulled her focus away.
Launch something. I’m careful not to look in the direction of the swings.
Maggie, I am sensing an intense shift in emotion. Is there anything in particular you’d like to explore? the Vertix asks, already sending a slow wave of dopamine and serotonin to my brain.
I close my eyes to focus on Wall Art, but the sound of feet distracts me. I open my eyes to see the little boy charging toward me, a giant grin on his chubby cheeks. His tiny fist is closed and he runs holding it to his chest, as if there’s something precious hidden inside. Unable to help myself, I lean forward, my task forgotten. I’m too eager to see what has made the little boy so excited.
“Hi,” I say cheerfully, bending down to his level.
The boy shoots me a wary glance and ignores my greeting, pausing his stride to climb onto the wooden bench, careful not to release whatever it is he’s holding in his hand. He regains his footing on the bench and raises his hand above his head toward his mom. “Mommy, look look, I’s find a bug!” he says with glee, releasing his clenched fist. “It’s a ladbug.” He rotates his tiny fist as the ladybug scurries across his skin, fanning its wings every few steps.
The mother is quiet again, seemingly unaware that her son is standing right in front of her.
“Mommy, it’s a ladbug. I find it all by meself!” the toddler croons, but still the mother ignores him. “Mommy!” the little boy shrieks, throwing his short arms out to hit his mom’s thighs.
The movement causes her to stumble back and look around, her expression wild. “Oh, what the hell are you doing? Don’t hit me. I’ll hit you, see if you like it, huh?” she growls. “What are you doing standing up there? Get down!” She reaches over the bench and grabs the little boy under his arms and places him back on the wood chips.
“But, I’s find ladbug. I want show you,” the boy says, inspecting his arms, but the lady bug is gone. “No, no, no, no! It right here. I had ladbug, Mommy.”
“A what? I don’t know what you’re saying. Now go play. Mommy’s trying to beat this level and then we’re leaving,” the woman says, pointing to the yellow slide
.
“But…but my ladbug,” the little child tries again.
Another pair of hurried footsteps rushes over to the bench. The boy’s sister has gotten off the swing. “Come on, Tyler, let’s go hunt for another ladybug together, okay?” She takes him by the hand.
The little boy rubs his eye with his fingers, nods and looks away from his mother. “Okay.”
The siblings run off toward a small pile of leaves, the little girl laughing too loud as though trying to distract the boy. Behind me I hear a scoff and turn around to see the young mother staring after her children. “You have kids?” she asks aloud, addressing me for the first time.
“No, no I don’t,” I stammer, caught off guard by her question.
“Hmpf,” the woman replies with a snort. “You’re lucky.”
• • • • •
I disconnect my Vertix, drop it in my sweatshirt pocket and leave the park to take a walk down Tremont Street, which runs parallel. I don’t want to be tempted to interfere with the mother and her children. She’s missing it. Her kids are young and full of wonder and she’s missing it.
I feel hypocritical in a way. I love my copper baby so I understand the appeal. But that woman has children who depend on her and want to share their delights with her, and she acted as though they were an inconvenience.
I wander down the quiet street, taking everything in around me as if seeing it for the first time. I see beauty in the way the sunshine reflects off the tall glass buildings, smile as a dad carries his laughing daughter on his shoulders, marvel watching a mama duck round all her fluffy ducklings together in an orderly line.
“It’s beautiful,” I say aloud.
I glance up, nearing one of the only store fronts on this street. It’s a little coffee shop Sarah and I used to frequent during finals. I’m impressed it’s still here. Every other store has switched to online retail channels.
A Delightful Moment, the sign reads. I frown, not recognizing the name. They must have changed owners. I deliberate going inside from the sidewalk. I don’t have any cash, but if I connect I can use Enyo to pay.
“Might as well,” I tell myself, “get something warm for the walk home.”
I open the door and hear a tinkling bell as I step inside the dimly lit coffee shop. Small tables are scattered about the room along with large pillows designed for seating. The whole shop gives off a Moroccan or Indian vibe, which is further cemented by the spicy scent of cinnamon and chocolate permeating the air.
Nearly every table is occupied, but there’s something off about the cozy atmosphere. I wander through the randomly placed consumers toward the long snaking line. Numerous screens are suspended from the ceiling, detailing the day’s specials along with brightly lit ads.
“Oh, pumpkin marshmallow sounds yummy,” I say to myself, and shrink back as my voice echoes loudly in the circular shop. “Oops.” I look around, surprised my voice carried that far. I take in the individuals and couples seated and standing around me, and my suspicions are confirmed.
Apart from the grinding of the coffee beans and automatic stirring machines, no one is speaking. No one is even looking at one another. It’s as if I’ve entered a museum filled with wax mannequins, all wearing the same faraway, dazed expression.
My gaze turns to the people standing in line and my mouth forms a small o as the barista calls for the next person in line. As one, the line advances, everyone taking a step forward in unison. Like a trained army. Like robots.
All of a sudden, the rich scent of the different spices becomes too much and I feel as if I’m choking. “I have to get out of here.” I gasp, taking a step backward, almost tripping over a young guy with dark black hair.
I skirt one of the larger tables and spin, pulling open the door with more force than necessary. The little bell jingles again, but this time it sends a chill up my spine. The cool November air welcomes me, sliding down the length of my fingers and wrapping around my neck like a well-worn scarf. I shiver once more and exhale my breath in a visible puff of white vapor. Wow, it’s really getting cold.
Now that I’m away from the creepy assembly of statues, my shoulders slump and my body relaxes. “That was too weird,” I speak, picking up my pace to distance myself from the shop. I wonder how long those people have been in there, enjoying their moment. I picture several of them with a fine layer of gray dust coating their soft skin and my feet increase in tempo.
“No, don’t think about it. Stay in control,” I will myself as another flash of a decaying body with a coffee cup in hand plagues my thoughts. “No, don’t think about it.” I grab my temples, but the scary thoughts are giving way to stronger hallucinations and those I can’t stop. I’ve been disconnected for too long. They’ve found me once again.
I pass an older man walking a chubby bulldog and the dog’s mouth gapes open, a high-pitched maniacal laugh issuing forth from its wide lips. “No, no, I just want a little more time,” I whisper, desperate to get a hold of the frightening visions while I still can. Speaking aloud seems to keep them from taking solid root in the forefront of my mind.
I look up and a large crow the color of grape jelly dives at me, cackling like an evil witch. I duck and dodge it, feeling my eyes roll around in their sockets, looking for an escape as numerous crows dive at me again, their clawed talons reaching for my hair.
“No! Stay back!” I shout, lurching to my left. Just then, a neon red OPEN sign glows like a calming beacon to my right and I rush inside the tiny shop without another thought.
Stale air greets me as I duck inside the dark store, as if I’m the first person to frequent the shop all year. The sound of the malicious crows continue to screech and caw madly in my mind, their large bodies creating dull thuds against the dirty windows as they attempt to reach me. I dig my fingers into the soft skin at my temples, bending over to try and make myself as small a target as possible. Maybe if I crouch low enough the floor will swallow me whole.
“Stop, stop, stop.” I breathe through my gritted teeth. “Just leave me alone.” I should just connect, let the bright waves of color and media erase the horrible images holding me hostage, but then I’d be weak. I don’t need the Vertix to function. I can beat this, I can remain in control of myself. I take a deep breath and let it out, straightening out of my doubled-over position until my spine is aligned once more. I open my eyes and take in my surroundings for the first time.
Shelves towering from floor to ceiling encase me in their lengthy shadows, blocking the pale light filtering in through the windows. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the poor lighting. How can they expect to sell anything when customers can’t see? I take another step down the long row, my gaze jumping from object to object as the clustered shelves overflow with dusty trinkets and dilapidated appliances. Further down, an ugly lamp puts off a nauseating yellow glow.
As if on cue, my stomach twists and I throw my hand over my mouth to keep the empty contents of my gut from climbing into my throat. “Focus, you can do it,” I say aloud, my words muffled by my hand. My eyes continue to dissect the eclectic array of baubles and chipped figurines and I spy an old glass perfume vial. Without hesitating, I pick it up, wrinkling my nose as a thick layer of gray dust coats the tips of my fingers. With little effort, I withdraw the stopper from the top, set it on the edge of the shelf, and tip the bottle over, sprinkling the last remaining drops of perfume onto my wrist.
An overpowering scent of rose and gardenia assails my nose, but it does the trick. I’m able to push the nausea away. I blow a slow, steady breath between my lips and replace the grimy bottle back on the shelf, matching it to the dust outline. My eyes roam along the rest of the collected objects as I wander down the aisle. There’s a dented metal toaster, a broken ballerina Christmas ornament, a set of foggy purple glasses with the year 2015 written in curly golden letters, and a sad looking stuffed dog with a torn ear and white stuffing pouring out of one of the button-less eyes.
A shiver races up my spine as I reg
ard all the long-forgotten toys and décor staring back at me. I round the corner and feel an abrupt sense of loss the longer I stare at the broken stuffed puppy. My fingers are stretching to touch the matted fur of the lonely animal when a gruff voice speaks beside me.
“Hello,” the dark shadow barks.
“Ah!” I scream, leaping away from the shelf as if I gripped a hot curling iron. I stumble backward into an old exercise bike, tumbling over the crooked seat and sharp pedals. “Ouch.”
A thundering boom echoes in the tiny shop, causing several of the little ceramic statues to vibrate in place. I reach up and try to grab the low handles of the bike to pull myself upright but a sharp pang bursts in my ankle with the slight movement. A low whimper escapes my lips just as the man lumbers into view.
“Christ. You’ve got yourself in some sort of bind haven’t you?” the large man scoffs, placing one hand on a thick hip. “Come here, darlin’.” He sighs, reaching down to pull me up.
The man’s meaty hand wraps around mine, his skin clammy. With a swift pull, he yanks me off the floor, disentangling me from the spinning pedals. He sets me on my feet and releases me. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he grumbles, taking several steps away from me. “You a’ight?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I say, taking a small step to test my ankle. It throbs with pain.
The man watches me, wrinkling his wiry, black eyebrows. “Come here, I got some ice you can put on that.”
Without waiting for my response, the clerk turns around and stomps off to the other side of the store. I follow hesitantly, trying to put as little pressure on my left ankle as possible. I’m a little wary of the large man. He seems nice, but his appearance is more in line with an unsavory villain. He steps behind a long glass counter, his obese stomach bumping the case. I study him.
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