Realms Unreel (2011)

by Audrey Auden

  She set the mug down on the floor beneath her desk, which was currently covered in a mess of papers and sketches, and riffled about in search of her smartcom. The ping of a new work email distracted her, and she flipped on her visual overlay to check the message.

  A developer from the Ukraine office had just responded to a question Owen asked a few hours ago: would it be difficult to add a simplified artificial intelligence and personality modeling tool for game-generated characters? Despite all the difficulties she had been having with the terrain design for Atlantis, Emmie and Owen had managed to make headway with several quest and combat games geared toward Temenos’s large population of immersive roleplaying adventure gamers, who had been demanding new content for several releases now. Emmie would not have time to flesh out all the new game characters she hoped to include in the next release if she needed to repeat the time-consuming process of custom coding the AI and personality characteristics of each one. A few basic parameters were all she really needed to edit from character to character. She sat down to read the message.

  Another buzz issued from somewhere on her desk, a second notification of the already forgotten smartcom message. She found her smartcom this time, wedged between pages of Wired magazine as a bookmark. She snapped it onto her immerger belt and was surprised to see, scrolling across her visual overlay, not just one message notification, but ten. Two were from Ollie, one was from her mother, and everything else was from Owen. She frowned as she read the latest message from Owen.

  Starting to get worried about you. Thought we were on for dinner. Are you still at work? Call me.

  She grimaced, closed the message, and pulled up Owen’s number. He picked up after one ring.

  “Hey …” she said sheepishly.

  “Em! Jesus. Are you still at work?”

  She wrinkled her nose, kicking her toes into the floor to rock back in her chair.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry I ruined our dinner plans.”

  “It’s okay —”

  “No, it’s not. You reminded me, we talked about it. I am super lame.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he exhaled audibly, “But you’ve seriously got to stop with these crazy hours. I hate imagining you driving around down there after dark, with —”

  “Thanks, Mom!” she cut him off, annoyed.

  “Sorry,” Owen laughed, “Hey, there’s still time for a 2 am pizza run. What do you say?”

  Emmie chewed her lip, glancing back at the email, drumming her fingers against the coffee mug.

  “I still have a little bit of work I want to wrap up tonight. Let’s do dinner tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” said Owen, sounding disappointed, “Love you, babe.”

  “Love you, too.”

  ∞

  Dom did what he could to keep Emmie awake at the wheel on the winding drive back up to her house in the hills. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning when Emmie pulled into her driveway. She parked the car, her eyelids drooping, yielding to exhaustion after two days of nearly uninterrupted artificial light. She tipped her head back against the headrest. The car door and the length of the path to her front steps were all that stood between her and bed. But now that Dom had her alone, safely beyond the reach of Augur’s security guards and cameras, he could not let her go just yet.

  Emmie started to reach for the car door handle, but Dom pulled at his connection to her. In Emmie’s weary state, her awareness let go of her body easily. Her head rolled a bit to the side, her eyes closing, and she twitched with the onset of sleep.

  Emmie’s awareness entered the grey void where dreams begin, which in her mind appeared to be merely another cavernous spliner. She awaited the familiar flicker that signaled the start of a spliner session, and Dom obliged, filling the space with his own vision. A soft light glowed around Emmie, and the grey floor rippled as the shape of a ship extruded smoothly beneath her feet, changing color and texture until it solidified into the broad boards of the ship’s deck. The prow of the boat cut across choppy waves, approaching the indistinct form of an island through the fog, the island Emmie had come to know as Atlantis.

  As it had so many times before, the fog dissolved to reveal the dramatic silhouette of the island. Dawn broke behind the ship, illuminating the dark shoreline cliffs, which glistened wetly in the daylight.

  But this time, drawing on every ounce of willpower he had cultivated across thousands of years, Dom centered his awareness on the Temple City, determined that Emmie should see it fully.

  To Dom’s relief, an inlet appeared between two cliffs, almost imperceptible amidst the craggy rock faces. Emmie’s boat found the path through the imposing volcanic walls, emerging on the still, indigo waters of the Temple City harbor. The morning light blazed pink and gold upon the bright stones of the city, the great central staircase, and the domed white form of Musaion.

  The boat pulled forward smoothly to the broad white steps that led up from the water, and Emmie leapt ashore. Dom strained to give her a moment to take in the landscape, but at last the strength of his concentration began to fail.

  The sunlight, the harbor, and the city all flickered.

  “No!” cried Emmie, desperately raking her eyes over the landscape as the entire scene seemed to rewind: the hills receding, the harbor expelling her through the inlet, the cliffs disappearing into the fog.

  She awoke. Whether the memory of the dream remained with her, Dom could not tell. He watched her eyes refocus slowly in the darkness of her car, first on the steering wheel, then on the dashboard, then on her house outside. She yawned and tossed her head. She pushed open the door, grabbed her bag, heaved herself from the driver’s seat, and trudged sleepily toward the house.

  In the shadows of the ring of redwood trees beside the house, Dom sat waiting on the stone bench. Tingling with the accumulated anticipation of twenty years, he called to her softly,

  “Emmie.”

  She froze. Eyes wide, she scanned the shadows ahead of her until she saw him sitting there. Her body tense, she called out,

  “Who are you?”

  He stood slowly and replied,

  “My name is Dom Artifex.”

  He took a step toward her, into the pool of light cast by a lamppost, and pushed back the hood of his traveling cloak. She backed away in alarm.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she cried, “I have a taser.”

  She rummaged in an outer pocket of her bag until she found the weapon that Owen had insisted she carry as insurance against mishaps during her daily and nightly solo treks through Oakland. She pointed the taser at him, and he put up both hands. It would not do for her to fire. If the taser electrode shot straight through him, it would be difficult to explain.

  “I thought you would see me better in the light,” he said calmly.

  He watched her take in his appearance, and a strange look came over her. Dom wondered whether that might have been a flicker of recognition. He certainly had not changed, in all the time that she had known him. Short, dark curls still framed his high forehead and cheekbones. Thick brows overshadowed his deep-set eyes. His long, straight nose led down to lips with the unfading blush of the undying. He was clean-shaven, his olive skin unlined. His appearance gave a deceptive impression of youth. Emmie’s gaze traveled the length of his cloak, which fell in loose folds from his shoulders to the ground. Her eyes lingered on his broad, callused hands.

  Her expression hardened, and she squared the taser at his chest. Dom extended his arms upward a bit more, the sleeves of his dusty tunic falling back from his forearms, revealing the faint pink lines of deeply-embedded scarlet threads.

  “What do you want?” she said, her voice steady despite her trembling hands.

  “I want to help you,” he said softly.

  She struggled visibly against exhaustion as she tried to respond to this, her eyelids drooping as she said,

  “Help me how?”

  “There is a domain called Dulai,” he said, “And an island in Dulai that I th
ink you should see. An island that could be your Atlantis, if you wish it.”

  This grabbed Emmie’s attention. Dom knew she could name every single Augur employee who had access to the name of the next Temenos expansion. Dom also knew Augur had a zero-tolerance policy for information leaks about product development. A leak like this could cost someone’s job.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  Dom chose his next words carefully. So much depended on him gaining her trust. Now that Emmie had Midori’s manuscript in her possession, he had to work quickly, to accomplish his purpose as much as to protect her.

  “You have a gift, Emmie Bridges,” he said, “An extraordinary kind of vision that led to many of your early successes. Vision that brought you to the attention of Tomo Yoshimoto. Vision that led to the success of Temenos.

  “But something has changed. Your vision is gone. All you see now are the missing pieces.”

  Emmie opened her mouth and closed it again. Dom went on, watching her closely,

  “It has taken a toll on you. Hours spent in fruitless brainstorming sessions. Falling asleep night after night at your desk on top of stacks of incomplete sketches. Uncomfortable silences in status meetings when you tell your team you have nothing yet for them to work on. Anxious questions from project managers about the mounting cost of man hours logged in the —”

  “Who told you that?” she interrupted angrily. He fell silent, wary of her temper. He needed to use her anger to draw her to him, not push him away.

  “Right,” she huffed, “This is starting to make sense. Let’s see … You heard a rumor on some game leaks forum that the next Temenos expansion is at a standstill since Tomo died. You’ve been stalking Augur employees, tracking them on the public alternet, following them home from work like this, figuring out how best to persuade someone to give you some insider information. And then you found Zeke Eckerd, who was only too eager to pump you full of his nasty rumors about me.

  “Look, I get it. There’s always a market for dirt on a big company like Augur. Or maybe you’re just looking to blackmail someone for the chance to pitch a potential acquisition opportunity or game content concept to one of the higher-ups. But cornering the Temenos creative lead alone in the middle of the night in a dark driveway is just not the way it’s done.”

  “Well, at least you have that right,” he interjected smoothly, “The dark driveway is not ideal. But I wanted to speak to you alone, and you have been surprisingly difficult to find alone away from Augur lately. Will you hear me out?”

  “I don’t need to hear any more of your creepy insights into my work life.”

  “I only want you to see that I understand your situation.”

  “What situation, exactly?”

  “You need a new partner.”

  Emmie’s finger twitched on the taser trigger. Dom drew his hands up a bit farther.

  “I am offering to help you,” he said again.

  “Why do you want to help me?” she demanded.

  Dom knew his work was done for now. Emmie was curious. Her fear was somewhat diminished. Not wanting to push his luck further, he backed into the shadows, stepping behind one of the great redwoods and withdrawing from her view. Impulsively, Emmie rushed after him into the ring of trees.

  “Hey! Stop!”

  But she found only an empty stone bench.

  CHAPTER 9

  Caught Off Guard

  Emmie woke with a start and found herself alone in her bedroom. She squinted at the bright light streaming through the window. She must have been asleep for a long time. She had definitely been having some weird dreams.

  She reached for the headset on her bedside table to check the time. Her hand swept by the small wooden box containing Tomo’s tablet, knocking it onto the floor. She started to reach for the box, but, unable to reach the floor without leaving the bed, she gave it up. When her fingers at last found her smartcom, she saw that it was half past noon. She yawned and fell back on the pillows, relieved that it was Saturday. She pulled up a visual overlay to scan her email.

  Owen had logged on to her smartcom remotely using her password and had left a sticky note at the center of her visual overlay, where she could not miss it.

  Figured you needed your rest, so I went ahead on the bike ride with Frank, Nora, and the boys. Call me when you’re up. DON’T FORGET we’re on for dinner tonight, okay? You PROMISED!

  Emmie smiled and dialed Owen’s number.

  “Wow,” he said, his projection looking down at her where she lay on the bed, “I think that might be the first time you’ve gotten a decent night’s sleep in a week.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, swiping a pillow through Owen’s hovering projection. He laughed.

  “Well, you look like you’re in a much better mood.”

  “I am.”

  “Good. We missed you on the ride. The boys are starving now, so we were just about to grab some lunch in Berkeley. Do you want to meet us?”

  Emmie chewed her lip.

  “Actually … I was thinking of going in again for a few hours, just to —”

  “No,” Owen groaned, “Emmie. Weekend. Come on.”

  “Just a few hours. I swear. I have storms in the brains.”

  “Well, then I’m coming over there with you, and I’m going to drag you out myself at five o’clock whether you like it or not.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll see you there.”

  An hour and a half later, Owen and Emmie met in the Augur parking lot. Campus was nearly empty, except for the security guards and a few of the developers who never seemed to leave.

  Emmie went up to pick a greyroom on the sixth floor, and Owen brought up the stack of sketches she had been working on yesterday, along with a thermos of coffee. As they reviewed the sketches, Emmie gradually descended into the same inexplicable frustration that had been plaguing her all week. There was something wrong, and she could not see what it was. She had to suppress her desire to rip each sketch to shreds as Owen patiently compiled a list of the few strong points they decided could be salvaged from her week’s work.

  At five o’clock, Emmie pushed back her headset and rubbed her eyes.

  “No more. I need a break.”

  “Great,” Owen said brightly, “Let’s go home.”

  Emmie wrinkled her nose. She wanted to leave, but that itch of something just beneath the surface of her awareness would not go away. Contemplating the scattered sketches on the floor, she said,

  “Is there any chance I could convince you to go ahead? I think I just need some time alone to think. Just an hour. One hour.”

  “Emmie,” Owen cajoled, leading her toward the door by the hand, “You promised.”

  “I’m not going to break any promises!” she said, with a twinge of impatience, “I just need a little time alone, okay?”

  “One hour,” he said sternly, “Promise?”

  ∞

  Dom had been waiting impatiently for Owen to leave, and now he seized his chance.

  “Emmie,” he said.

  Emmie started, then quickly pulled on her headset to check whether she had accidentally switched the projection room audio onto a public channel. If she and Owen had been on live mics, their entire conversation, in particular her despairing evaluations of her latest Atlantis concepts, could have been overheard by anyone on campus.

  “Do not worry,” Dom continued, “This is a private channel.”

  “Who is this?” Emmie demanded, standing up and glaring fiercely into the empty space of the greyroom.

  Dom stepped out of the wall in front of her.

  “We met last night. Well, early this morning, to be precise. Do you remember?”

  Emmie stared at him. He expected her to be startled, but not as frightened as she had been last night. He had been careful to choose the circumstances so she could believe he was merely a visual projection, albeit an unauthorized one.

  “How — How did you get in here?” she stammer
ed, “This is a secure office network.”

  “I know some tricks,” he replied.

  “I’m calling security,” she said, her hand moving to her immerger belt.

  “Wait,” said Dom, pulling as hard as he dared on their connection, willing her to listen to him, “Will you not hear what I have to say, first?”

  She held the tip of her tongue between her teeth, considering him more shrewdly now that her surprise had subsided.

  “So? What do you want?”

  “Do you remember what I said last night?”

  Emmie crossed her arms.

  “Let’s see. Oh, right. It’s all coming back to me. I have no vision … I’m wasting company resources … I’m no good without Tomo …” she said, ticking each item off on her fingers, “Does that about sum it up?”

  “Well, actually, you forgot the one I meant. I want to help you.”

  “Ah, yes. You want to help me. Very noble of you. And I know this isn’t some kind of blackmail or political maneuver orchestrated by one of my dear colleagues because …?”

  “You cannot know unless you give me a chance to show you. There is no risk. You are in a locked room, after all. Entirely secure.”

  “Right. Except for some crazy dude who’s hacked into my private network.”

  “Yes. Except for that.”

  Her fingers hovered over the security call button on her immerger belt again, and for a moment Dom held his breath. To his relief, Emmie lowered her hand.

  “Fine,” she said tensely, “Show me whatever it is you’re so anxious to show me. But I need to get out of here in exactly one hour.”

  “We will need to be quick, then,” said Dom, “Sit back down.”

  Emmie crossed her legs and sank to the floor. Dom sat facing her, thrilled by the sensation of being seen by her.