Realms Unreel (2011)

by Audrey Auden

  “Well,” she said expectantly, interrupting his moment of elation, “What do we do now?”

  Dom exhaled softly, focusing on the task at hand.

  “Open a blank canvas,” he said.

  She tapped a few keystrokes on her forearm, and the room brightened. She stretched out her hand in the space between them, and the grey floor changed to a matte white surface.

  His success from the night before seemed to make summoning up the image of the Temple City easier, and when Dom focused on the canvas, a dark curve appeared easily, followed by another, then another. The lines resolved into one of the sketches Emmie had started working on yesterday.

  “How are you doing that?” she said, “I never scanned that sketch, or any of the others, either.”

  “Just watch.”

  So she watched as the lines spread across the page. But where the unbroken line of the cliffs had been before, the outline now turned inland, forming a winding channel that opened into a central lagoon. She looked at Dom wide-eyed.

  “I remember that now. I was standing … there, at the edge of that lagoon. And there,” she reached for a compartment on her belt and withdrew a fine-pointed stylus, with which she began to sketch on the canvas, “there was a city.”

  She leaned forward on hands and knees, shading the steep incline that led from the lagoon to the white city, tracing the lines of the terraced city footprint. Dom sat back to observe, nodding from time to time, correcting a misplaced line here and there.

  Her hand moved quickly as she fleshed out the sketch, completely absorbed in the work. Without pausing, she pulled a sculpting tool from her belt and began to layer upon the sketch a rough three-dimensional terrain model.

  She was fine-tuning the model when her smartcom buzzed. She leaned back on her heels and answered the call. Owen’s projection appeared.

  “What?” she said impatiently. Owen raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the sketches scattered all over the floor.

  “Oh, no,” she groaned, standing up and cringing as she rolled her stiff shoulders. “Owen, I totally lost track of time.”

  “Really?” he smirked.

  “I’m leaving right now!” she said, stuffing gear into her bag as Owen’s projection wagged a finger at her, “This instant. Bye!”

  After the call ended, Emmie turned toward the place Dom had been sitting.

  “I have to go —”

  She stopped, shaking her head. Dom had hidden himself once more.

  ∞

  A spicy aroma and the cheerful strains of 2000’s power pop washed over Emmie when she opened her door. She dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, and padded into the kitchen, where Owen stood before the stove sprinkling fresh cilantro into a pot of steaming curry. A pan of sautéed vegetables and a covered casserole dish filled with a fluffy pile of saffron rice sat on the back burner. A pile of vegetable trimmings littered the counter. Owen two-stepped toward her, singing along with the home audio system,

  “Hey, Emmie, look what they’re doing to me,

  Tryin’ to trip me up, tryin’ to wear me down.

  Emmie, I swear, it’s so hard to bear it,

  And I’d never make it through without you around.”

  “OMG, you are such a dork!” Emmie laughed over the music as he completed his two-step circuit around the kitchen. She followed her nose to the stove.

  “That smells amazing,” she said, giving the pot of lamb curry a stir, “Thanks for cooking.”

  The song ended, and Owen turned down the volume.

  “I was starting to think I’d be eating alone.”

  Emmie grimaced.

  “I really tried to come back earlier. The universe does not want us to have dinner together ever again.”

  “Seems like it,” said Owen, turning off the oven burners and grabbing a pair of plates from the sideboard, “What’s been up with you lately?”

  Emmie leaned against the counter and looked out the window toward the driveway, chewing the inside of her lip. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Owen about Dom.

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” she said.

  Owen opened the oven and pulled out a plate of naan that had been warming there.

  “Wow! You really did it up nice,” Emmie said. Owen plated the food, and she started to head toward the kitchen table, but Owen said,

  “Wait. Let’s eat in the dining room tonight.”

  Emmie glanced at him curiously, and she noticed for the first time a warm glow emanating from the dining room. Owen steered her toward the room, where she found the table set for two, a low centerpiece of large white candles, and a pair of stemmed glasses beside a decanter of red wine.

  “Whoa. Fancy. What’s the occasion?” she asked.

  Owen shrugged mysteriously.

  “You know … We’ve been so slammed at work. It’s been a while since we had a nice dinner together.”

  He pulled out a chair, and she sat down. He poured her a glass of wine before returning to the kitchen to retrieve the food. Emmie poured him a glass of wine while she waited, wondering what all the fuss was about.

  “It’s too bad,” Owen said, looking out the window as he set down their plates, “We just missed the sunset.”

  “It’s still pretty, though,” Emmie said fairly, “The stars are coming out, and the moon is so bright.”

  They ate in comfortable silence, admiring the view and listening to the music playing from the living room. Emmie leaned back in her chair.

  “Well, that was delicious.”

  “Good,” said Owen, pouring them both a little more wine. He lifted his glass, and Emmie followed his lead. They smiled at each other and touched their glasses, which rang out softly. They both sipped the wine. When Emmie set her glass down, Owen reached out and placed his hand on hers.

  “Emmie,” he said, “I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time. But it’s been hard to find the right moment.”

  She watched in shock as Owen went down on one knee. She thought her heart was going to pound out of her chest as he fished a small black box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside, shining on a black velvet cushion, lay a silver key attached to a prosaic steel key ring.

  “Emerald Isadora Bridges,” Owen said solemnly, “Will you move in with me?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Seeking Counsel

  The next morning, Emmie and Ollie stood waiting in a small crowd outside La Note, a Provençal restaurant in Berkeley.

  “We seriously need to find another place to do our Sunday brunches,” said Ollie, crossing her arms.

  Emmie murmured her agreement, but her gaze was elsewhere. After Ollie had emerged from the restaurant with the disheartening wait time (“Forty-five minutes!”), Emmie had surreptitiously turned on a visual overlay of a popular domain, Calchan, that wrapped the university campus and its surrounding neighborhoods. Through her tinted immerger glasses, she observed the spectacle of a motley crowd of avatars superimposed on Shattuck Avenue.

  From where she stood, she could listen in on overtly sexualized hookup negotiations, insubstantial social exchanges, gratuitously argumentative collegiate discussions on technical and philosophical subjects, and all variety of adolescent capering and mischief. When the scene grew repetitive, she logged off Calchan and opened a two-dimensional overlay to skim her work email. Switching on her fingertip keyboard sensors, she discreetly tapped out against her thigh a few short responses to some of her team’s questions about the assignments she had sent out last night after her revelatory work session with Dom.

  “You’re immersed right now, aren’t you?” said Ollie, shaking her head, “It’s an addiction, Emmie. It really is.”

  “You should check this out, Dr. Bridges,” replied Emmie, tossing her sister a spare pair of immerger glasses from her bag and logging her in to Calchan. Ollie rolled her eyes but slipped the glasses on nonetheless. A minute later, having taken in the virtual world overlaid on Shattuck Avenue, Ollie laughed,

  �
�Sometimes I can appreciate why you passed on college. Based on this, I guess you figured it’s nothing but a four-year frat party with a pricey cover charge.”

  “Or a holding tank for insecure posers.”

  “That’s not very nice. This is your prime demographic.”

  “Don’t be so vulgar, Ollie!” Emmie said melodramatically, “I create for an audience of alternet art aficionados.”

  Their conversation devolved over the next half hour into a competition to find the most hilarious public channel chat exchanges in Calchan, until Emmie’s stomach rumbled in protest.

  “Do you think it’s lame to order delivery while we’re waiting?” said Emmie.

  “Ha ha. You’ll survive another fifteen minutes.”

  Emmie smirked at Ollie and resumed watching the virtual tableau overlaid on Shattuck Avenue. A moment later, she turned back to her sister.

  “I —”

  She stopped. Right across the sidewalk, she saw a man with dark, curly hair dressed in a belted, knee-length linen tunic and heavy leather boots, leaning against the window of La Note. She did a double take, and the man vanished.

  “Emmie? What is it?” said Ollie, following her sister’s gaze.

  “There —” Emmie said, pointing, “Did you see …? Huh. He’s gone.”

  “Who?”

  Emmie pushed back her immerger glasses and shaded her eyes with her hand, taking a second look at the window without the clutter of a visual overlay. There was definitely no one there. She looked at Ollie and said in a low voice,

  “I’ll tell you once we sit down.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No. I don’t know. Just weird.”

  After they were seated and had placed their orders, Ollie looked at her expectantly.

  “Well?”

  “Where to even begin?” sighed Emmie, shaking her head, “You’ve got to promise not to think I’m crazy.”

  “Emmie, come on.”

  “Right, so, the other day, this guy showed up outside my place. It was really late. Totally dark. I threatened him with my taser, actually.”

  Ollie’s eyes widened.

  “He said he wanted to help me with the next Temenos release. And he knew all this stuff that he shouldn’t have, like the new subdomain name, and … other stuff.”

  Ollie raised an eyebrow curiously, but Emmie hurried on,

  “Then, yesterday, this guy’s projection showed up on the Augur network, and he —”

  “Wait,” Ollie interrupted, “You mean while you were in Temenos?”

  “No,” said Emmie, “Like at work. On the Augur network.”

  “Aren’t you guys supposed to have excellent security? That’s what all your business services promo literature says.”

  “Yeah, I thought so.”

  “So? What did he want?”

  “The same thing as before. He said he wants to help me with the next release.”

  Ollie shook her head in confusion.

  “Why does he think you need help with the next release?”

  The waitress came by to pour them coffee, and Emmie waited until she was out of earshot to say,

  “Well, there are these rumors going around that I can’t finish the release without Tomo.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Ollie scoffed, “If anything, you’re the only one who could complete the release without him.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Emmie sighed, “I’ve been having a lot of trouble with the concept work for this release, even the most basic stuff. I’m insanely behind schedule. Nothing has been going as smoothly as it used to for me. And there’s this other designer, Zeke — Ty’s having him work on a backup release in case I drop the ball.”

  “Well, that’s annoying, but you shouldn’t let any of it under your skin. Of course the CEO has to have a backup plan. That doesn’t mean he’s lost confidence in you.”

  “Thanks. But I guess the rumors have legs, because this total stranger seemed to know about them.”

  “That’s creepy, Emmie. Did you tell Augur security about this guy? Or the police? This guy sounds like a stalker. He could be dangerous. And if he’s hacked your office network, I guess that makes him a criminal, too.”

  “Maybe. But the weird thing is … well, I don’t want to tell security. This guy has offered to help me, and he already has. He’s helped me a lot. I made more progress on the release last night than I have in the last six months. If I do manage to get it out the door, I’m going to have him to thank.”

  Ollie leaned toward her and said,

  “Emmie. Think about this. Maybe it seems like he’s helping you now, but he could have a longer-term plan to blackmail you or do something damaging to Augur. He could tell someone that you stole IP from him, or … I don’t even know. But this could ruin your professional reputation.”

  Emmie pushed her hands through her hair.

  “You think I haven’t thought of that? I know it’s stupid, but for some reason, I — I trust this guy. I believe that he wants to help me. And, more than that, he’s somehow able to see exactly what was wrong with my concept, to point out the missing pieces that I just couldn’t put my finger on before. I feel like … I don’t know why. Like it’s worth risking my job.”

  Ollie considered her skeptically.

  “Are you sure you’re not doing this because, deep down, you just want an excuse to leave Augur? The only reason you went corporate in the first place is because of Tomo, and I could understand if you felt like leaving now that he’s gone.”

  Emmie frowned,

  “It’s not like that. I’ve really come to love my work at Augur. But I don’t know how else to get the job done anymore except with Dom’s help.”

  “Dom. That’s his name?”

  “Dom Artifex. That’s what he told me, anyway.”

  “He sounds like a stalker,” Ollie said seriously, “Promise me you’ll be careful? And, while you’re at it, talk to Mom. This guy really could be out to get you in trouble with Augur’s legal department.”

  Emmie grimaced, and Ollie took a sip of her coffee. The waitress came by and set an omelette in front of Emmie and a bowl of oatmeal and berries in front of Ollie.

  “So was that who you saw outside?” said Ollie.

  “It might just be my imagination. When I took another look, he was gone.”

  “Creepy.”

  They ate in silence for a little while, until Ollie asked,

  “Anything else going on in your world?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “Well, I meant anything good.”

  Emmie peered at her sister suspiciously over a forkful of omelette.

  “Like what exactly?”

  Ollie shrugged innocently.

  “What!” Emmie exclaimed, “Did Owen talk to you?”

  Ollie rolled her eyes.

  “Everyone talks to me. I’m like the family confessional.”

  Emmie looked away, unable to meet Ollie’s eyes, and her gaze wandered across the room. At the far booth, a middle-aged Asian man sat alone, sipping a coffee and reading the newspaper. A young couple with a noisy baby was trying to wave down their waitress for the check. Four college students were laughing at the table by the window. One of the boys at the table looked like Owen, and Emmie swallowed quickly and looked down. She pushed the seasoned potatoes around on her plate.

  “Is everything okay?” Ollie asked gently.

  Emmie groaned, remembering the awkward exchange.

  “I didn’t know what to say. I told him I needed some time to think about it. What am I going to do? We’re at work together every day!”

  “Calm down,” Ollie laughed, “There’s no rush. Anyway, it would make me look bad if you did move in together. I haven’t even been on a third date since I was an undergrad.”

  Emmie pressed her hands to her face and looked up at her sister.

  “I love him to death,” Emmie said seriously, “But … the last six months —” words gave way
to a growl of aggravation, “I feel like the world has been turned inside out. I feel like I owe it to Tomo to finish this project, but it’s turned into a complete disaster. Everyone watching, judging, waiting for me to screw it up. And now Owen — I don’t know. I’d sort of just like things to stay the way they are, you know?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Ollie said, squeezing her hand, “You guys care about each other. Don’t make things more complicated than they need to be.”

  ∞

  Over the next few weeks, Emmie started taking the bus to Augur to squeeze in an additional half hour of email and chat before the work day kicked into high gear. Deadline was fast approaching. Many members of the team had resumed sleeping at the office, creating a scene reminiscent of Temenos’s first launch. The frenetic atmosphere had made it easy for Emmie and Owen to avoid any direct discussion of their living situation since the night Owen popped the question.

  Emmie arrived at the Augur campus a little before nine o’clock and wrapped up an email to the development team lead as she rode the elevator to the third floor. As soon as she sent it, she received a new message notification. It was an email from Owen. She opened it apprehensively.

  I want you to know I’m not trying to be weird — just trying to give you some space. I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now. I guess I’m hoping that’s all it is, anyway.

  I love you, Emmie, and I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just want to be with you.

  Let’s talk soon. I miss you.

  Her eyes glistened with tears, and she laughed self-deprecatingly and wiped them away with the back of her hand, trying not to smear the eyeliner she had hastily applied while on the bus. She tuned in to the third-floor public audio channel, usually the lifeblood of the creative team’s communication. The channel was silent today. Everyone was working heads-down or collaborating on private channels. She swung by the lounge for coffee before pinging Owen.

  “I’m in 601,” he said, “Come on up.”

  “Eerily quiet today,” she said over their shared channel, making her way back to the elevators, “How long has it been like this?”