Realms Unreel (2011)

by Audrey Auden

  “You coming back for lunch?” Owen asked, pulling a thin cotton shirt out of his pocket and over his head, then rubbing his skin to remove the tingling sensation left behind by the tactile immerger gear.

  “Hmmm,” Emmie murmured.

  “Em?”

  She nodded vaguely,

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m coming. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Owen opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind and only nodded. He walked back to the east wall and exited through a sliding door. A beam of golden midday sunlight and the chattering of the rest of the crew momentarily pierced the grey silence of the spliner. Then the door closed.

  Emmie bowed her head. Dom knew she could not bear up indefinitely under the weight of all these expectant, invisible observers with their expensive, idle hands. If he could have helped her, he would have done so, but neither of them as yet could find the clarity required to complete the Temple City.

  Emmie pulled off her headset and looked out into the empty grey space. She swallowed and said softly,

  “Please, show yourself. Please —”

  From the distant western wall of the spliner where Dom stood, he felt the words resonate.

  The desire to stand before her burned with an intensity Dom thought he had long since learned to resist. He saw Emmie stop short, her eyes widening in the half-light. Fear replaced all desire, and Dom hid himself once more. But he knew that she had seen him. He only hoped he had been quick enough that she would not believe it.

  “Shiva?” Emmie said on the public channel, her voice rising. There was no reply. Everyone else had already left the building. Or so she thought. Dom saw Emmie hesitate before walking slowly toward the place where she had glimpsed him.

  Up close, she found nothing but a uniform grey expanse of floor merging with the wall. She took a deep breath and forced a laugh. Programming glitches were a normal part of domain development and could easily cause a momentary extrusion of the spliner’s floor or wall during the shutdown sequence. She tapped out a quick bug report on the forearm of her immerger sleeve and submitted it to the ticketing system.

  She left through the east door, her footsteps swallowed up by the muffling walls and springy floor of the spliner. Relieved, Dom watched her go.

  ∞

  Emmie emerged from the spliner, squinting until her eyes adjusted to the dazzling sunlight that saturated the brick paths and buildings, the flowering shrubs and trees, and the rolling lawns of the Augur campus.

  She headed toward the main office cafeteria, but as the gleaming glass building came into view, she slowed, then stopped. The campus seemed strangely empty. On a beautiful spring day like this, the grounds would usually be filled with people on lunch break. Emmie flicked on her visual overlay and scrolled through her email to check whether someone had called a last-minute meeting, but she found no such messages. Someone must have made an announcement over the campus-wide audio channel, forgetting that the spliner was shielded from wireless signals. She hurried on.

  She saw no one in the main cafeteria adjacent to the lobby, and she had nearly reached the elevators when she noticed the bright red light shining above the door of the video screening room. Normally she would not have interrupted a screening in progress, but now she walked to the double doors and pressed her ear against the crack between them. She heard the inarticulate murmur of a speaker’s voice, almost entirely muffled by the room’s first-rate soundproofing. She pushed open the door softly and stepped inside.

  The screening room had never been so crowded, standing room only. A few months ago, the entire company would have occupied less than half this space. Emmie took in the stricken faces around her and frowned, stretching onto her tiptoes to peer over the shoulders of those before her. She could just make out Ty Monaghan and Ahmet Harani, Augur’s CEO and CTO, standing at the front of the auditorium. Ty was speaking slowly, his usually ruddy face drained of color,

  “… has been notified, and they will be arriving Thursday from Kyoto to attend a private funeral service. His sister has arranged a memorial service for the Augur community to take place this Sunday evening at seven o’clock at the Buddhist Church of Oakland on Jackson Street.”

  Emmie’s eyes widened, and her hands flew to her mouth. Ty took a deep breath and continued,

  “Tomo was a close personal friend for the past fifteen years. Meeting him was a turning point in my life, and I am thankful to have known him. Even though he is gone, his work will live on. His creativity and craftsmanship have shaped the heart of Augur and touched millions of people who have experienced his domains and games.”

  Emmie felt her face turn cold, and she staggered backwards into someone.

  “Careful!” came a surprised voice. Before she could turn around, Owen appeared from somewhere nearby, and he reached out to steady her, grasping her by the arms.

  “Lay her down flat,” someone warned, “She’s going to faint.”

  Several hands lowered her gently to the floor. She felt the blood rushing back to her head. Owen hovered over her, and she grabbed his hand.

  “Yikes,” he said, “Your fingers are like ice.”

  “Owen,” she whispered, holding back tears, “What happened to Tomo?”

  He pressed her hand in both of his.

  “He’s dead, Emmie. He fell down in the street while he was walking home last night. The medical examiner says it was a heart attack.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Mementos

  Dom stood unseen beside Emmie as she sat on the stone bench inside the circle of redwood trees shading her driveway. She seemed oblivious to the misty rain that had started to fall, focusing instead on skimming the toes of her black shoes back and forth across the lush spring grass. Dom, however, scanned her surroundings vigilantly. Since Tomo’s death, he had spent every spare moment with Emmie, knowing that his long-awaited moment was fast approaching.

  Tires crunched on loose gravel, and Owen’s dark grey electric sports car pulled quietly into the driveway. He drew up beside her and climbed out of the car, an enormous black umbrella in his hand.

  “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, loping toward her. He opened the umbrella over her and tried to remove his jacket with one hand, managing to splash them both in the process.

  “No, no,” she said, tugging at his lapels to straighten his jacket, “Really, I’m fine.” She flicked small droplets of water off her black skirt and stretched onto her toes to brush the rain out of Owen’s dark hair, which he had carefully parted and combed.

  “You look nice,” he said, crouching down to keep the umbrella close to her as they walked to the car.

  She shot him a small smile.

  “You’re sweet,” she replied, “You look nice, too.”

  They climbed into the car, and Owen drove slowly down the steep, winding road into the Oakland flats. Dom watched Emmie from the back seat as she gazed listlessly out the window at the familiar trees and houses sliding by.

  “I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t wearing immersion gear. It makes everything seem so quiet … so still.”

  Owen glanced at her.

  “You sound like that’s a bad thing.”

  Emmie shrugged.

  “Tomo never wore immergers outside of work. He’d say,” she switched into an imitation of Tomo’s most earnest tone, “‘We must never forget how to be present in one world at a time.’ I guess he knew I had trouble with that.”

  Owen smiled wryly. They drove in silence until he pulled into a parking space on Fourth Street across from the Buddhist church.

  “I feel … all disconnected,” Emmie said, watching the twilight gather outside the car, “But not sad. None of this seems real.”

  Owen settled his hand on hers, and she glanced down at their intertwined fingers, half smiling as she said,

  “He was my idol when I was a kid. I totally worshipped him. And then when I met him, he was so … I don’t know. I never expected it to be like that. I thought he would be a t
eacher, a mentor, maybe, if I was lucky. But he was much more than that to me. I felt — as soon as I met him, right away — like I’d known him forever. Has that ever happened to you?”

  Emmie looked back up at Owen, expecting a reply, but he was staring through the rain-smeared windshield. Emmie and Dom leaned forward, following Owen’s gaze. A small group of people carrying signs lined the wrought iron fence separating the Buddhist church from the sidewalk.

  “What are they doing?” said Emmie.

  Three people unfurled a huge banner across their chests:

  TECH TYCOONS BURN

  Emmie’s mouth dropped open, and she reached for the door handle, her face livid. Owen grabbed her arm before she could step out onto the sidewalk.

  “Look,” said Owen, pointing. Through the rapidly-fogging windshield, Dom saw a flashing blue light rounding the corner. “Someone already called the police. Let’s stay out of it.”

  Two officers climbed from the police vehicle and began arguing with the group standing in front of the church. Eventually, after some wild gesticulating, the group dispersed. When the sidewalk was clear, Owen squeezed Emmie’s hand.

  “Come on. Let’s do this.”

  The rain had started to fall harder. Dom followed Emmie and Owen as they hurried up the steps and through the red front doors of the church. A flock of wet umbrellas dripped onto the worn red carpet covering the wood floor of the entryway. A small sign indicated that the memorial service for Tomo Yoshimoto would take place in the main hondo on the second floor of the church. Emmie murmured hello to a few Augur employees coming in behind them before proceeding with Owen up the stairs.

  Religious objects lined the hallway on the second floor. The gleaming metals, bright paints, and rich fabrics of altars, shrines, and statues created a festive atmosphere, an incongruous backdrop to the somber stream of people headed to the memorial service. The door to the hondo stood open, and beside it sat a carved cedar sculpture of the Buddha, smiling serenely. Emmie looked down at the statue as she passed, briefly smiling back.

  Dom, scanning the faces of the crowd hopefully, recognized with a jolt of excitement the familiar face of a sprightly Asian woman with stylishly-bobbed silver hair entering the hondo just ahead of them. The woman bowed slightly toward the altar at the front before proceeding at a dignified pace into the room. Emmie and Owen exchanged a look, then imitated her.

  The hondo was quite full. Owen, surveying the room, spied an empty space in the pews to the left of the altar. He led Emmie toward it by the hand. Once seated, Emmie glanced back at the door each time someone entered. A few minutes later, Ollie appeared, followed by Anatolia and Travis. Ollie murmured something to Anatolia and bowed smoothly toward the altar. Anatolia followed her lead, while Travis, following behind, crossed himself. Emmie, biting her lip to suppress an inopportune giggle, caught Ollie’s eye with a small wave and slid toward the center of the pew to make room for her family. Dom sat between Emmie and a pale, overweight young programmer with thick glasses and a wrinkled black shirt.

  Ollie worked her way slowly through the crowd, edging around Owen’s knees to sit beside Emmie. She smoothed a few locks of Emmie’s hair away from her eyes and brushed a smear of eyeshadow from her sister’s cheek before wrapping her in a hug. Anatolia reached over to give Emmie’s hand a squeeze before turning to chat with Owen in an undertone.

  “Did you see the protestors?” Ollie asked softly. Emmie nodded, and Ollie let out a long sigh, “I don’t even know what these people are trying to accomplish any more.”

  Emmie leaned her head on Ollie’s shoulder wordlessly and looked forward to the altar.

  “What a beautiful shrine,” said Emmie. A broad, dark lintel inlaid with panels of gold relief and supported by round gold columns framed the wide rectangular recess housing the golden shrine to the Buddha. A low, glossy altar table stood before the shrine, draped with fabric woven in a stylized floral pattern. Two wreaths of gleaming silver hung from the ceiling on either side of the shrine, and below each one sat a dark urn of incense. A large photograph of Tomo stood on the altar beside a vase of flowers. The serenity of the old man’s smile in his portrait was quite different from the intensity of the gaze Dom remembered from Tomo’s youth.

  “A bit gaudy for my taste,” Ollie whispered, “But I guess I can see what you mean.”

  As the crowd finished settling into the pews, a middle-aged priest with a shining bald head and a grey robe walked down the center aisle. He stood behind a plain wooden lectern to the right of the gleaming shrine and pulled the microphone down a few inches. The room fell quiet.

  “Welcome to the Buddhist Church of Oakland,” he began, speaking in precise English with a Japanese cadence, “Thank you all for coming. Today we memorialize the life of Tomo Yoshimoto and celebrate his passage into the next.” He looked out across the sea of faces, and his eyes settled momentarily on Emmie before he said, smiling broadly, “I see Tomo was a man fortunate to have many friends.

  “Throughout the memorial service, we will perform rituals of spiritual significance. We perform these rituals both in memory of Tomo and for those of us left behind who mourn his departure. We have many visitors, so, before we begin, I would like to tell you what to expect. …”

  ∞

  After the service, the Bridges filed out into a side room lined with round tables, chairs, and a long table laid out with food and drink.

  “I’m thirsty,” Emmie said, “My head is swimming from all that incense.”

  Owen offered to get drinks for everyone, and Ollie found them an empty table in a corner. Emmie took a seat and looked around. Dom waited impatiently, until at last Emmie’s eyes fell on the silver-haired woman, who stood by the door leading back out into the hallway. People walked up to her, shaking her hand and nodding quietly. Several dropped small black and silver envelopes into a basket set out on a low table beside her.

  “She must be a member of Tomo’s family,” said Emmie, “I’m going to go over.” The others nodded. Dom followed.

  A middle-aged woman wearing a pitch black dress and soft black slippers stood before her in the line. Emmie asked if she knew how the other woman was related to Tomo.

  “Oh! Ayame is — well, was — his sister,” she replied, “She lives in Oakland, not far. I met her here at the temple, well, it must have been just six months ago, now. It’s sad, isn’t it? He was the last living member of her immediate family, and her only family here in America, I think. She told me they were close.”

  After the woman in front of her had spoken with Ayame a while, she left through the hall door, and Emmie stepped forward.

  “I’m so —” Emmie’s voice broke, and she stopped to regain her composure, “So very sorry for your loss.”

  Ayame reached out and touched her arm.

  “Thank you, thank you for coming. No need to be sorry, though. I will miss my brother very much, but death is a part of life. And it’s not so great a tragedy when an old man dies.”

  “Well, even so …”

  Ayame smiled at her kindly.

  “You know,” she said conspiratorially, leaning toward Emmie and lowering her voice as she looked at the people milling about the room, “He would laugh to think of you all coming here to remember him.”

  “Why?” Emmie asked in surprise.

  “I can’t remember the last time he set foot inside a temple. He drifted away from spiritual practices as he grew older.” Her eyes returned to Emmie, “He was quite different as a boy — fascinated by Buddhist teachings. He loved to talk about the existence of many worlds, of life after life. But then —” she waved her hand vaguely, “Life happens. I think he forgot the joys and felt only the pain.”

  “He never seemed that way to me,” Emmie said, drawing back a little.

  Ayame raised an eyebrow. After a moment, she said,

  “No. No, I suppose that’s right. Moving to America, this was a fresh start for him. When I finally moved here to be closer to him, I could see that he h
ad changed. He had grown happy again.”

  “Well,” Emmie said, her voice rising with conviction, “He had every reason to be happy. He spent his life doing extraordinary work, work that he loved.”

  Ayame scrutinized her closely.

  “You must be Emmie Bridges,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Emmie, surprised, “How did you know?”

  “Tomo told me about you. He meant to introduce us. He said you reminded him of someone we knew when we were children. I see now what he meant.”

  “Oh … Well. I’m pleased to meet you, too, Ms. …”

  “Yoshimoto. But please, call me Ayame.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ayame.”

  “Yes, I am glad we have met at last.”

  They smiled at each other. A couple stepped up behind Emmie, so she said,

  “Well, goodbye, Ayame.”

  Emmie started to leave. Dom watched Ayame anxiously, and, much to his relief, she reached out and touched Emmie’s arm.

  “He left something for you,” Ayame said quietly, “I just heard it from his lawyer.”

  Emmie stopped short. Dom listened closely.

  “For me?” said Emmie.

  “Yes. I’m not sure what, exactly. Tomo left instructions for me to retrieve it. Perhaps we should meet later so I can give it to you?”

  “Um … sure. Of course. Whenever you like.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Bequest

  Six months later, the nine o’clock alarm buzzed on Emmie’s smartcom, and she swung her arm toward her nightstand, knocking it to the floor, where it continued to buzz. She tried to reach the floor to turn it off. Failing that, she rolled heavily out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. She ran the shower hot, waiting for the room to fill with steam before slipping out of her pajamas and into the water.