Oaklee squealed when she felt Leaf’s hands on her waist. He helped her down, and leaned her against the wall. She lifted her shoulders to reposition herself when something unexpected poked her. Light immediately filled the room, illuminating everything in sight. Bright orbs were mounted in the corners behind the metal table that supported the portals. Turning around, Oaklee found a strange toggle in the earthen wall. She moved it in a downward fashion and the light evaporated instantly. Carefully moving it upward, the light returned, and hurt her eyes as she tried to stare into the perfectly contained fire.
“It is magic,” Oaklee said in a breathless voice. “Remember the stories Grandma Pat shared with the children about wizards who had magic wands, their magic lighting a path whenever they cast spells?”
Leaf nodded, and Oaklee knew he was pondering her words.
Encouraged, Oaklee continued, “Do you think this toggle is a miniature magic wand under a spell to cast light or make it disappear?”
Leaf regarded her a few moments and then asked, “Are you suggesting that The Elements are magicians?”
“Perhaps that is their history! Leaf, will you learn this power as well?” Oaklee’s adrenaline was raging through her system with the mysterious happenings of this underground room.
“I am not sure yet. I do believe that we have encountered another form of Outside technology,” he said simply. “I am happy to know that we no longer need candles and fire nests, though. That shall save on resources.”
“Let us activate the portal, Leaf. My nerves will not endure any more anticipation and magic.”
Oaklee walked over to the strange rectangular rock beneath the table and pushed the crystal. Standing up, she pushed the crystal on the large unreflective looking glass, but not before she caught a glimpse of a blurred image of herself. Her hair still looked decent it appeared, and she smiled in relief.
Immediately, the screen flashed blue and a whining noise hummed from the portal. Although Oaklee anticipated the flash of light, she still flinched when it happened, unaccustomed to such experiences, noticing that Leaf had responded similarly. When an image appeared, asking for the password, Leaf walked over to the wall and unplugged the root, turning the screen to black and causing the whine to deflate to nothingness. He placed the root back into the wall and watched as the screen turned blue, hearing the rock sing its mechanical song once more.
She slowly blew out a breath to calm her inner tension, and a new excitement consumed her body as she waited nervously for Master Fillion’s image to appear through the portal. After a few seconds, she saw an image of a man flicker onto the screen, wearing a black hood over most of his face and hiding his eyes behind an intentional shadow. She gasped, afraid they had connected to another Dungeon Master. Leaf, having the same fear as Oaklee, stepped in front of her as a shield from the visitor. With quick movements, Oaklee lifted her hood back over her head as further protection.
“Greetings, I come in peace,” the visitor said, humor on his lips. “I knew you would contact me tonight.”
Leaf sighed in relief. "Master F—"
“Yes. Do not let the cloak bother you. I must keep my identity hidden since I’m enlisted as a soldier now, and no one must know. It’s a secret mission. This is my last night at New Eden Enterprises.”
“You will fight in a war?” Oaklee asked as she stepped forward, removing her hood. She had never spoken to a soldier before. Her hand moved of its own volition to her heart when his lips parted in surprise with her question. Where were his piercings? He was placing his life in danger? She lowered her head respectfully, and then said with sorrow, “I shall pray for you every day, sir.”
***
When a person enters a character at a LARP they take on a world-view that is not truly their own. This begins to have all kinds of changes on you directly. The first, and most noticeable, is that you begin to make decisions in a particular way. These decisions range from being mildly different than what you would do as a person to being completely foreign and against every fiber of your being. As you make decisions you have to constantly wrestle against your self in order to stay true to the character. Often, larpers will ask them selves, “What would [name of character] do?” instead of just reacting to a situation.
—Jordan Gwyther, “LARP Can Save the World,” LARPing.org, May 3, 2012 *
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.
—William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 1597 *
***
Fillion sucked in a deep breath as Willow stepped out from behind Leaf and slowly lowered her hood. “Oh my god,” he exhaled quietly as his mouth slackened.
Willow’s green eyes were fully visible with the lighting they must have discovered. The minimal glow of the flickering candles in their last satellite connection made it difficult to see but revealed enough to show that she was pretty. But this? He failed to form an adequate description.
Unlike their first encounter, he knew she had spent more time preparing her appearance. Was this how she normally looked? Or was it for him? The very idea warmed him with a multitude of strange and unfamiliar sensations. What the hell was wrong with him?
For the first time in his life he mentally fumbled and was struck dumb. He couldn’t think of a single coherent reply. Not even something snarky or sarcastic. If this is what happened to him from staring at bits of code, what would happen when he stood before her actual physical form? Was she even real? God, just to get close enough to hear breaths verifying a vital sign would do him in. No one had ever affected him this way before, and he officially began freaking out.
Their lives would always be intertwined. It was inescapable. He would own the company that designed her life and her future. Every day he would be forced to think about what his company was doing to her, and how much she hated him for it. He would also inherit the company that was responsible for her dad’s death.
Her face tilted while regarding his image, eyebrows drawn together prettily as she slightly frowned. Never in his daydreams did she give a shit in such a personal way. Why would she? And here she stood, bothered by his semi-fabricated story, offering up prayers for his soul. It was easier to deal with the pain when she wasn’t real. Just a name on a death certificate plastered all over the media and collecting dust on his dad’s desk. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, fighting the sensations that blocked all logical thought and inhibited his ability to form a reply.
“Yes, I will fight in a war,” he said, not recognizing his own voice. He rolled his eyes at himself. “My location will be assigned by the state I live in.”
Thoughts came back in a flash flood. His dad was sitting in this room out of sight to see the Watsons. Fillion had a role to play. The death card. He opened his eyes and willed his feelings to take a backseat as he channeled the roguish attitude of Dungeon Master. With fabricated confidence, he raised his head and gave her a wicked grin, and then asked, “Will you miss me?”
The flirty taunt hung in the air, daring Willow to make a move. Her mouth instantly hung open and then she pressed her lips together as she revved up to reply to his flippant and ungallant comment. The earthy young woman narrowed her eyes at him and then lifted her chin as she faced away from the screen.
“I felt concern at first, sir, and then I recalled that I was speaking with trash.”
A mischievous glint crossed her eyes as she flashed them his way in a guarded side-glance. He bit the inside of cheek as a subtle smile lined her mouth, returning his challenge. She knew he was goading her. God, he loved her witty spirit. Leaf angled his head and squinted his eyes at his sister. Willow’s expression morphed into irritation as a cover, hiding her playful message from Leaf.
Fillion kept his head low and behind the black hood as he slumped against his chair in a laid-back angle, raising one leg to hang off the arm with blasé ease. He wanted to create an arrogant and aloof picture of intimidation to overpower Leaf. And to overpower the emo
tions that threatened to reduce him to stupidity once again.
“As a gentleman,” he began, watching the golden haired sprite closely, “I offer my apologies.” He bowed his head in deference, the humor returning to his lips. Playing into their old-fashioned ways, he continued, “I was hoping you would give a young man something to hope for on his last night of freedom. Do you have this custom in New Eden?”
“Men in New Eden do not ask for something that is not theirs to have,” Leaf shot back, giving Willow a warning look. “It is dishonorable. This is an inappropriate conversation to have with my sister.”
“Pity. It’s a, uh, what’s the word? Oh, yes, a pleasurable custom.” Fillion watched Leaf’s face darken, making him laugh, and then he bit his bottom lip flirtatiously at Willow.
She turned her head away with a look of mortification as her body became rigid. He had apparently gone too far, even though the joke was mild. Fillion rolled his eyes as he kicked himself under the desk. How do people flirt in New Eden? God, he hoped they weren’t polite the entire time. He wouldn’t last long.
Schooling his features, Fillion said, “Relax, Leaf. Memories are all a man has when he goes into battle. I meant nothing dishonorable.”
“Leaf is leaving,” Willow blurted. She let out a long sigh and rested her hands against her cheeks as she peered up at her brother.
Leaf glared at his sister, shifting on his feet.
“You’re the exchange?”
Hanley began coughing from shock, so Fillion coughed to mask his dad’s flaw. His dad didn’t know who the exchange was?
“Yes, sir, he is.”
The nobleman lowered his head, and Fillion watched the muscles work in his jaw. With quick movements, Willow wiped away tears, and then turned her back to grieve privately. Fillion understood their sentiments. His own thoughts drifted back home as she struggled for composure and as Leaf worked through the inner tension.
Fillion looked at his hands, and studied the black stains surrounding his fingernails. It was a remnant from the black nail polish removed yesterday evening. The old life was not forgotten; it hung around like the stains in his skin. He thought of Lynden who would help Leaf adjust to their culture. Where was his sister right now? He hoped Mack was keeping her out of trouble.
Leaf walked over and pulled Willow against him, resting his head on hers as he whispered something into her ear. It was a message Fillion wished he could hear. Willow buried her face into Leaf’s chest, and her shoulders shook as her hands tightly gripped her brother’s cloak.
The candle picture burned in Fillion’s mind as another fear surfaced. If Leaf left, it would be up to him to protect Willow from any harm. And if his dad wrote the Watsons back into The Legacy, she would be next in line to become The Aether. The thought of such responsibility elicited terror, and his insecurities escalated while imagining her fate and life resting in his hands.
He looked at his hands again, wondering if they were capable. So far he was incapable of keeping his own sister from the pitfalls and traps of their society. Since he was twelve, he wanted to protect Willow and her siblings from danger, to make right all the wrongs, and here was his opportunity. Spooked, he muttered, “What the hell,” and glanced over his shoulder at his dad who sat out of camera range. Was this also part of his dad’s game? Did he know his own son so well, orchestrating the Watson siblings somehow?
To keep up the unfeeling image of Dungeon Master, Fillion decided it was time to break up the touching scene between brother and sister before he lost his mind.
“Good luck to you, Leaf Watson. I suppose you’re a soldier going into battle as well, entering a war you know nothing about.” Fillion hoped his dad felt the jab, understanding these are real people affected by his so-called business plan. He snickered at his next thought. “You know this is a game, right?”
“What do you mean, sir?” Leaf asked, slowly separating from Willow.
“Your parents and their group were live action role-players, masters of escapism. They are characters playing out a story, pretending to be interplanetary homesteaders for research and development. Their objective is to recreate a fully functioning enclosed community that reflects a medieval lifestyle in order to survive and to not experience social breakdown from isolation, confinement, and extreme environment syndrome. The life you live is all a lie.” Fillion let that last statement sink in a few seconds, watching Willow pale from his sharp words.
Looking at his fingers in purposeful disinterest, Fillion continued, “It’s an experiment to see if people can thrive in captivity to prove that terraforming and colonizing planets, such as Mars, is doable. If people go insane—well, then there is no point in wasting government funds in moving off our home planet. NASA already knows it can sustain life on Mars, but the human psyche? That is what your whole generation inside New Eden is proving. No other test has shown long-term successful results. NASA had declared it impossible. The human brain is wired to planet Earth and open spaces, and then Hanley Nichols decided to play God. The whole world is holding its breath to see if the Mars test babies have thrived.”
With a gasp, Willow placed a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
Leaf glanced at his sister with a frown. With hands on hips, Leaf turned and stared him down despite the hood, and asked, “How do they know if people are going insane? What is their baseline for such statements?”
“You’ll find out on August 15th when the doors open to the scientific world and the United States government. Until then, how would you know, Son of Earth, what’s real and what isn’t? You think your world is real, but it’s only a game—and like all games, it will come to an end once the project reaches the finish line.”
“You did not answer my question.”
Fillion smirked at Leaf’s steady redirection. “The adults that moved in twenty years ago are playing a character in a story. They aren’t from the Middle Ages. They are American citizens with mundane lives. And they sounded like me until they were sealed away. All of them had computers, phones, technology you can’t even begin to imagine. They drove cars, flew on planes, and had scientific jobs. It’s all a lie.”
Leaf gave a low chuckle, but Fillion knew he wasn’t humored.
“I am aware they are not from the Middle Ages, sir. All children are taught The Code and have it memorized by adolescence. And I do not live a lie. Everything I do is real, and I daily feel the joy, satisfaction, pain, and anguish of every decision made. If I do not tend the gardens properly, then the community is not fed. That is real. Have you ever faced hunger from failing to produce? Or made your own clothes from seed? Taken medicine grown in an apothecary garden? Have you ever been a part of a community that wholly depends on what you contribute?”
Fillion shifted in his chair and made sure his exposed face remained passive. He had no clue what Leaf was talking about. The only kind of survival Fillion personally knew and experienced was keeping the human spirit alive. The online community thrived on the gossip his life contributed. In the end, nothing he did mattered to humankind’s sustainability. His culture wasn’t set up that way. They were taught to depend on corporations, governments, and their own intellect. Not each other.
Leaf took a step closer and continued, “I have seen the magic of technology and so far I fear what it represents. It is something that is not real while tricking the mind to accept that it is. I am talking to you, but you are not really here in front of me. How is that even possible? Perhaps, sir, you are the one living a lie.” Leaf crossed his arms over his chest. “Your world is the delusion.”
Clapping, Fillion gave him a slight bow. “That was quite the speech. Did you grow up over the last couple of days, Leaf? It seems you needed your sister to do the fighting for you last time we met.” Fillion gave him a cocky smile. He had a different statement in mind. But he figured it would be too indelicate for Willow’s ears.
“Bold words, Dungeon Master.” Leaf narrowed his eyes, but kept his voice calm. “My father’s life was real a
nd he left me a rich personal legacy, despite his failures, mistakes, and imperfections. I have known only love, support, and community, even if this is a game. My identity is secure regardless of what you say or the tactics you use in an attempt to intimidate me. I have genuine purpose, and my community needs me.” The young nobleman looked down his nose at Fillion in a way that Fillion could only describe as aristocratic.
Fillion needed something to drink and space to escape the Leaf’s words. He stood up and walked away for a moment. The refreshment station wasn’t too far away from the communications system, a bonus for whoever worked this desk originally. Opening up a small fridge, he grabbed a Coke and sauntered back to his seat, pulling the tab. A hiss sounded followed by a pop as he flopped back into the chair. The Watsons watched on with curious stares as he took a long drink. God, he wished he had a whiskey chaser, and a cigarette.
Leaf’s words hit him deep. Jealousy rose even though they were lab rats in a maze. The medieval hippies had a better life than he had ever known. Leaf had love? Support? Staring at the can, he could see a muted image of himself reflected back. The hood covered his eyes and exposed his nose and mouth. They were features that were more his mom than dad. What was his legacy? Hanley shifted in his chair and he knew the dead space was making his dad feel uncomfortable. He turned toward Leaf and Willow, drawing in a breath ready to speak when he heard her voice, soft and sad.
“Why are you sharing this information with us, Dungeon Master?”
He looked at Willow and felt his heart constrict, knowing his words wounded her. She would hate him for it, but they needed to know. If they wanted to protect their family, they needed to know the truth. And he wanted the Dungeon Master to deliver this news. Not Corlan Jayne, who he hoped would play a different role. One he was desperately trying to figure out.
Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) Page 32