“Wait!” Andy shouts, sending the noodle flying.
I groan, my stomach unable to hold out much longer. “Seriously, what is your problem? I’m not forcing you to eat them am I?”
“No, but I just remembered something that will help,” Andy says, his blue eyes wide. “Have you ever used Mirage?”
“No,” I reply, sticking my hand back into the box for another noodle.
“Seriously, just hold up. Quick go to it. You won’t be sorry,” Andy says eagerly.
I roll my eyes and curl the second noodle in my fist as I lean back against the lumpy pillow. Take me to Mirage, I instruct.
Welcome to Mirage, Maggie. Are you looking for friendship, love, exercise, food or spirits? the Vertix asks.
Food? I answer.
Please choose from the selection and enjoy, the Vertix directs. A second later I’m standing in a large room, surrounded by every possible food I can imagine moving along on conveyer belts. Passing me now is the same bag of chips I craved a few minutes ago. I rip it open. The powdery scent of artificial cheddar cheese and sour cream rises out of the bag, beckoning me forward. I don’t need a formal invitation.
Shoving my hand into the crinkly bag, I grab chip after chip, barely chewing in my eagerness to fill my belly. The delicious flavor makes my taste buds sing and the only sound is my teeth gnashing together as I devour the entire bag.
Too soon it’s empty, but the raw pain of hunger has dulled somewhat. I reach toward the slowly moving food items to grab more, but this time my fingers slip right through. “Hey, what gives?” I say aloud.
Andy laughs in my left eye, angling his torso toward me. “That’s it. That’s how Mirage works. The image is only available to you if there is some type of real, solid food actually in your hands. It takes the real object and alters it, creates a mirage around that item so that it makes it easier to digest if it’s not the most appetizing of choices. Look,” he points to the empty box of moth noodles. “you just housed that entire box.”
“Really? That’s what I was eating? But…but it tasted so good,” I say, running my tongue over my lips. I swear I can still taste the powdered cheese.
Andy nods. “See, I told you it’d be worth it. I found that one night when my food situation was pretty bleak. Made the old bruised apple I was eating taste like warm apple pie.”
“When things were bleak? You mean worse than this?” I laugh, pointing to the kitchen. “Yikes.”
Andy pushes my shoulder and sighs. “Yeah, yeah.”
We’re quiet for a few minutes and it’s nice. I hate when I’m trying to scope through My World and someone keeps talking to me. Oh, a four-year-old’s birthday party, I grimace. Thank God I don’t know anyone with children. Whoa, check out that girl! I don’t know why people think it’s attractive to be the color of burnt wood and nothing but muscle. Ew, look at that mammoth slug! Good thing I never plan to go to the West Coast.
I don’t know how long we sit there, not talking. I leave My World after a bit and open Acceleration. A guy has posted an image of the Aurora borealis and I want to see them too. The thick snow crunches under my boots and my breath comes out in tiny white puffs of air. I can hear another set of labored breathing behind me and when I look around, Sarah is beside me. She pulls down her cloth wrap covering the bottom half of her face and gasps.
“Wow, Maggie this is beautiful. I can’t believe we made it,” Sarah whispers as the northern lights begin to dance.
“I know, the hotel knew what they were talking about,” I reply. Briefly I wonder what I’m talking about.
“Come on, let’s dance with them,” Sarah cries, running ahead. Her boots sink into the fresh snow, creating a muffled crunch with each step.
A carefree laugh bubbles from my throat as I chase after her. We dance and sway with the twisting lights, marveling at the bright turquoise and pale lavender that cuts across the navy sky. I collapse into the soft snow, my gaze still transfixed by the hypnotizing lights flickering above me.
“I’ve missed you, Mags,” Sarah whispers, plopping down beside me. “It’s not like this anymore.”
Sadness swells in my chest. I know she’s right, but I can’t remember why. “It’s all right, Sar, at least we have each other here.”
The lights burn brighter and then begin to fizzle away, streak by streak, until there’s nothing in the dark sky, not even the faraway sparkle of a silver star. I sit up, watching the snowflakes melt off me until I’m left wearing the same sweater and black pants I put on this morning. I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them wide, trying to figure out what I’m missing. Andy’s dark apartment surrounds me, quite a disappointment after the stunning Northern Lights.
“Andy? Andy are you there?” I call out, patting the couch on either side of me.
“What? Yeah, I’m here,” Andy replies, his voice rough.
“What time is it? Something happened. My Vertix just stopped working,” I say. “Can you turn on the light?”
There’s a fumbling sound and then a dull splash of color illuminates the room. “Wait, what’s going on?” he asks, flinching away from the dim light.
I stand and scan the room for my coat. “My Vertix died I think. I had a full battery this morning but I didn’t bring the charger with me. I better go,” I explain, hastily buttoning my coat. The material hangs funny and I glance down to see I’ve missed several buttons. Whatever, at least a few are done. It only takes fifteen minutes to reach my apartment from here. That’s plenty of time to get home and charge up before anything starts to happen.
Andy remains on the couch as I disconnect the Vertix. The small device is already silent, but the tiny sensor legs withdraw from my muscles and curl into the base of the device like a dead beetle. I shove the useless machine into my coat pocket, scratching an irritating tickle at the back of my neck. Dry rusted flakes of blood accumulate under my fingernails.
“Bye Andy. I’ll see you…whenever,” I call over my shoulder as I rip the door open. I’ve gone longer than fifteen minutes before without any major withdrawal symptoms but I’m not willing to test it. I don’t wait to hear if my brother responds.
Get to the subway, get to the subway. If I keep my goal in mind, hopefully it’ll keep less desirable thoughts from finding me. Taking the stairs two at a time, I make it down to the lobby of the apartment building in minutes, brushing past a young boy holding a Get Well Soon balloon.
A moment later, I crash through the glass-paneled door and step into the cold evening. The sky is pitch black, and I still have no idea what time it is. I just left work a few hours ago, so my guess is it can’t be later than five or six. I break into a run, keeping one hand in my pocket to ensure the Vertix doesn’t tumble out.
I have to pause twice to catch my breath. At last I tumble down the steps, trying to leap as many as I can as the solar light above me grows dimmer by the second. There were a lot of thick clouds today.
I slither into the dimly lit subway, my mind only focused on which platform leads uptown. There are several other commuters milling about the station, the majority of them walking listlessly forward, shuffling their feet like the walking dead. Normally I’m not bothered by it, but today their pace drives me insane.
“Move! Move out of my way!” I shout as I enter an especially thick mass. No one reacts to my loud command. They resemble drifting pieces of kelp rather than individual people. Just push them. They won’t notice anyway.
I lift my elbows up and plow through the herd, knocking a little boy to the ground. He maintains his grip on his mother’s hand, taking her down to her knees. They both look startled for a moment, but then their eyes fade, back to whatever app they’re accessing. See, I told you, my self-conscious sneers, propelling my feet faster. Now hurry up and pay so we can get out of here.
“All right, I just need to start Enyo,” I say aloud, but then freeze, reaching up to touch my bare neck. “Shit, I can’t access it. I can’t pay.” Jump the barrier.
The words are
barely louder than a whisper, but I hear them with ringing clarity. “I can’t. Everyone will see,” I argue, looking around. I spot two cops in their dark navy uniforms negotiating with a homeless man sitting on a dirty piece of cardboard. Just do it, you’re running out of time. Something will happen.
As if I’ve thought the magic words, my stomach flips and vomit spews out of my mouth onto the already grimy floor. Sharp pricks stab my esophagus and tonsils as the half-digested noodles come thrashing up. I clutch my throat as another choking gasp is wrenched from within.
Pale vomit drips between my teeth, splashing against the scuffed tiles and ricocheting onto my shoes and the bottom of my pants. I grip a nearby person for support but they shrug me off. The hurried movement sends me sprawling, unable to catch myself in time. My palm smacks against the floor, my fingers sinking into the evidence of my desperate meal.
“Hey! Hey, are you all right?” a deep voice calls.
I glance under my arm and see one of the cops heading my way. Hurry, get up, get on the train!
“Hey, hang on. We’ll get you some help,” the officer says, walking even closer.
I have to act now or he’ll arrest me, take me to the station, and I’ll have no hope of connecting. I can do this. I wipe the back of my hand across my chin, catching the remaining flecks of sickness clinging to my face. Jumping to my feet, I spin and head for the small gates that allow commuters into the vast expanse of the subway station. I’ll have to improvise.
“Stop! Royce, help me with this girl!” the cop yells, chasing after me.
I don’t stop, focused on the tall silver gate I need to get over. Jump it, climb it! Find something to stand on! I shout inside my mind, but the station is empty, the trash cans cemented in place. I look at the thin metal slates that make up the door and a high-pitched laugh surrounds me. I press my hands to my eyes, knowing the hallucinations are about to start.
The metal slates shiver and shake, twisting and bending until they resemble a skeleton’s rib cage. The vibration creates a hollow melody.
It’s not real, it’s not real. My senses seem to disagree. I gasp as numerous skulls roll into place atop each gate, black soulless pits where their eyes should have been glaring at me. Each skull throws its head back and cackles while their rotten teeth snap.
A man steps in front of the gate to hell, a languid expression on his calm features. Don’t you see it? Why aren’t you afraid? I shy away from the boisterous skeletons, ready to risk a night in jail rather than pass beneath their devilish eyes and clawing hands.
Despite my silent warnings, the man in front of me pauses at the scanner and charges the five dollars and seventy-five cent fare to his Enyo account. The door swings open, revealing the peaceful subway station on the other side. An idea sparks amidst the madness.
“Stop, miss, please,” the cop calls again as they fight their way through the undead mob separating us.
“In your dreams,” I growl and launch myself through the gate, ducking as multiple bony fingers tear and rip at my coat and hair. The man who paid stumbles backward. I chance a peek over my shoulder as I run. The cops are still fighting their way through.
I race down the black set of stairs and reach the bottom as the T train pulls in, exhaling a steamy breath like a long-forgotten dragon forced to wander the opaque tunnels.
“Open, open, open!” I shout, startling the teenage girl beside me. The sealed doors break, whispering for me to enter. I leap the small gap separating the train from the platform and sigh in relief. I made it.
I sit on the opposite side of the train car with my back against the wall. Lots of people file in behind me, none of them the two cops. My palms slap my knees. Why isn’t the driver pulling out yet? Relax. You’re safe.
“Safe,” I scoff, rubbing the skin on the back of my hand. “A very relative word.”
The doors shut and the train jerks with motion. I sway to the left, grinding my teeth together. How soon until they become little nubs? I picture the hollering skeletons and release my jaw.
I have at least eight minutes on the train. I sink lower on the hard bench, my back sliding down the smooth wall. The itch on my hand intensifies, spreading upward to my forearm. I try my best to pull the heavy fabric of my coat out of the way, but my fingers can only follow the itch so far.
Just ignore it, you’ll be able to connect soon and it will go away. But I’m not connected now and the itching doesn’t stop. It grows, infecting my other arm, my legs, my stomach, my chest, my forehead, the skin behind my ears. It’s as if I rolled through an entire field of poison ivy before boarding the train. I do my best to ignore it but I can’t. The boiling temperature of the train car sends the itching into overdrive.
I dig my nails into my left wrist, scratching and ripping in an attempt to rid my body of the colony of fire ants tunneling through my veins. My jagged nails tear the soft flesh and warm liquid builds under the damaged carotene. Still I don’t stop. If I can only reach the ants…
“Ew, Mama look!” A little boy with white blond hair points at me. “She’s eating her arm.”
I pay no attention to the child. My teeth are so much more effective than my flimsy nails. I spot the queen of my army and bite into my skin, grabbing her crunchy body between my teeth, and rip her from my flesh. Sliding my teeth back and forth, I separate her thorax from the abdomen. Her head and wings tumble to the floor, bouncing off the edge of the bench and roll to a stop several feet away. I spit the large abdomen to the right, watching with glee as it bounces off another passenger and disappears from sight.
“All right, as for the rest of you,” I snap, turning my attention to the remaining ants. “Get out.” I turn my left hand upside down and shake it. A shower of red sprinkles across the white laminate floor, along with hundreds of tiny black bodies, all lost without their queen.
Now that the itching has stopped, I can relax. I look around and realize that all the other passengers that once surrounded me have gone. We must have hit more stops than I thought. I hope I didn’t miss mine. My mind tries to link into the subway map but without my Vertix, I’m left staring at the gray wall opposite me.
“I just read it on the news,” a stranger nearby is saying. “There are reports coming in. They’re thinking about shutting it all down.”
“Oh that’s stupid,” another man scoffs. “They are making billions of dollars off the Vertix. The only thing they’re going to do is keep making more and more. So what if a few people have died. It’s because they’re weak and don’t use it properly.”
I straighten, my interest piqued.
“I guess you’re right,” the first man says, rubbing his eyes. “I mean, I have one and I’m not dead. Some hospital even got a doctor to come on and compare it to addiction. Can you imagine?”
“Yeah, and like every other drug that can be abused, so can technology. It just depends on the person,” the older man says, shaking his bald head.
“That’s what the doctor said. He also said some garbage about the strength and velocity of the addiction being similar to alcohol. You know how alcoholism is genetic, well they’re finding that this shit is too.”
“Lucky for us, we’re not losers,” the second man agrees. I watch as his eyes glaze over and his limbs relax. A surge of jealousy blooms and I imagine tearing the gray Vertix off his neck.
The other guy nods and his eyes wander around the train car until they come to me. I avert my gaze, aware he is still looking at me. A spark of pride makes me smile. My sweater is pretty tight and I think I’ve lost weight.
“Whoa, prime example right there.” The man snickers to himself.
I toss my hair over my shoulder, trying to put off a sexy yet effortless vibe. I know I am.
The bronze key fits into the lock and I push the door open, letting it bang against the plaster wall. I slam the door behind me and exhale with relief, already moving toward my room. An entire pride of lions chased me home. One almost caught me, but I ducked into the gutter and
it sailed over me and disappeared.
In my room I yank open the wooden drawer of my bedside table and grab the charger, shove the plug into the nearest socket and set both charger and device on my dresser. The little blue pad alights with power, sensing the Vertix atop it.
My job is done, my mission complete. Now I must survive twenty more minutes for my Vertix to fully charge. I collapse onto my bed, coat and shoes still on. I don’t have the energy to remove them.
“Finally,” a sour voice says.
I look back to see Sarah leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed and an expression to match her foul tone. “Hey,” I say, my voice lifeless.
“Where’ve you been?” Sarah asks.
“At Andy’s.” I sigh, closing my eyes. The itching has begun again, this time deep inside my ear canal. Please hurry, I plead.
“Oh really?” Sarah says, her voice rising with surprise. “How’s he doing?”
“Fine,” I reply, taking a deep breath as my legs dissolve into rubber bands. Keep it together.
“Did he tell you what he did, or better what he didn’t do? I told you he doesn’t care about me. As long as he’s got that…thing hooked up, he treats me like a throw pillow,” Sarah complains. I remain silent, focusing on counting to sixty over and over. “Maggie, hello? Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, totally. What an ass,” I agree, giving her what she wants. Go away, go away. The next moment I feel my bed sink as she sits on the edge.
“Maggie, can I ask you something?”
“No, he’s not cheating on you, I promise. I doubt he’s bringing any girls to that dump. Which reminds me, do we have any food? Can you like bring me a Hot Pocket or something? I’m starving,” I mutter.
“No, I wasn’t going to ask you that,” Sarah says, her voice hesitant.
I groan. She’s never going to go away until she gets whatever she needs to off her chest. “What then? Wait—can you get me that Hot Pocket first?”
“We don’t have any. We don’t have a lot of things because you didn’t place the order…again. Maggie, this is the fifth time. Every single week you flake out and then when I run out and quickly grab some stuff to make it through until the order arrives, all you eat is a couple of saltines. You’ve lost like twenty pounds, you barely get dressed, and you sit around here like a zombie half the time. I don’t know what’s going on but I want you to know that I’m here for you. You know that. Anything you need.”
Wired Page 24