by Olga Werby
Interesting. I wish I knew more of Ghost’s backstory. Two decades of being alone with your pain doesn’t sound too pleasant. But I guess The Far Cinct’s non-interference credo is responsible for that. I tell myself that I would do things differently if I’ll get a chance. I wouldn’t abandon people to their own fear. I would do things to help. I bet there are hundreds of people out here who desperately need attention. The Far Cinct needs psychiatric services, I decide.
The door slides open and Gattara’s voice comes from the inside. “There you are.” There’s a whiff of iktsuarpok about her—it’s as if she has been waiting for our visit all afternoon.
“Hi, Gattara,” Ghost pussyfoots inside. Gattara’s little army of apps scatters out of his way. “You’ve met Jude, I hear.”
“We ran across each other,” she says noncommittally, not giving out any information. It’s like she knows that I don’t really remember what happened.
What’s wrong with me today? I strain to find information hidden in my head. It’s harder because it’s virtual and the snakes cloud my attempts to peer inside. What a slithering mess.
“Why don’t you come inside, Jude?” Gattara waves me in. I step over the threshold and the door slides shut behind me. The room expands into a garden so large I can’t even see the enclosing walls. This virtual reality stuff takes time to get used to.
“It’s okay, Jude.” Ghost coils his tail around my wrist again and pulls me deeper inside. “Gattara has the tools we need to investigate Doc’s friends.”
“And I’ll be discreet about it too,” the old woman assures us. Well, it’s an avatar of an old woman. It’s easy to forget that out here things are not always as they seem. Four arms indeed, I catch myself thinking sideways.
“I’m sure Doc won’t mind us looking,” I say. “He would want to know too, right?”
Gattara just gives me a look. I choose to interpret it as a kind look, but it makes me uncomfortable. Gattara can be just as unreal as some, all, or none of Doc’s friends. My mind makes a quick mental probability matrix for each outcome. Cool—I’ve never done that before.
“Pixie visited me a while ago,” Gattara is saying.
I missed the beginning again due to engaging in cerebral statistical acrobatics. Damn. What drugs are they giving me? Can I get some for my next math test?
“Jude said that she thought Doc was at Pixie’s house when he first got sick,” Ghost says and pulls on my arm to get my attention back to the conversation.
“Yeah. That’s right,” I say, pretending to pay attention. But Gattara knows I’m really just a space cadet at the moment. She graces me with one of those enigmatic smiles. Really? Isn’t she too old for social games like these? My snakes hiss at her.
“You need to learn to control your emotions.” The old woman tells me something I know all too well. I’m a teenager, for goodness sake. I don’t do emotional control well. “Most of the enhancements feed off emotions,” she says. “You give too much away.”
“I know. I know.” My eels get in the game and put on a bit of pyrotechnics to prove Gattara’s point. Traitors. “I’m working on that. But my zoo seems to be very independent-minded.”
“Those are the best kinds of enhancements,” Gattara says. “Doc did well by you.”
“The eels are not from him,” I say. Don’t I ever get any credit for my own choices? Or pilfering…
“Yes. The eels are very special. I believe you are the first customer to own them.”
“Really?” I’m excited by the news. Don’t know why, but I love being unique.
“The hackers’ collective developed them a long time ago,” Gattara explains. “But they refused to be sold.”
“How can an enhancement refuse its own sale? It’s just code. How do they get a choice?”
“There’s code, and there’s code.”
Well, that is very enlightening. Remind me to ask her for some help on my next math quiz. I sigh. She just laughs. I guess I am transparent. Well, I am. I can see the eels floating deep inside of me. So there. I pout. I feel stupid. I am here to learn but I seem to be resisting and being defiant for no good reason.
“You were talking about Pixie?” Ghost says. Good boy—cat—whatever.
“I helped Pixie with her avatar,” Gattara says.
“You did?” I can’t hide my surprise. I was ready to brand that cheeky feline a fake. But all that pink cat stuff? Really? Who chooses that? And what adult enables a little girl to be so…so…so provocative. I conjure an image of Pixie in my head. She is tall, and very full-figured, and wears heels, and is very, very pink all over.
“She first came to me asking for help making a big male avatar body,” Gattara says. Ghost and I just stare at her. Pixie? Male? She ended up as far as one can get in the other direction. “She said she didn’t want to feel vulnerable,” Gattara continued. “She wanted to be powerful. The sexy pink werecat was an afterthought. We looked at many very different options.”
“Powerful.” I think of Pixie. She is powerful, but that’s mostly because she is intelligent, and clever, and street smart. “Why exactly did she want to be powerful?” I ask.
“You should ask her,” Gattara says.
“I will,” I say. “And perhaps you can help me with my woman-melons.” I push out my giant chest. It’s cringe worthy. What was I thinking? “Something about ten times smaller.”
“Done,” Gattara says.
A swarm of little hairy programs jump on me. And I swear it feels like they just consume some of my avatar’s mass. Moments later, the app tide ebbs and I like the results. My breasts are about what they are in my real life, which is plenty attention getting without being ridiculous. Great. One problem solved. My snakes provide a three-sixty view of my improved shape. Definitely better. I won’t have to hide from my dad during our next visit. I miss my dad.
“What about Sleazy and Slick?” I ask, forcing myself back to the problem at hand. “Stupid names, by the way.”
“What do you want of pre-adolescent boys?” Gattara retorts. With a few quick finger gestures, she directs her swarm of apps to various tasks in her garden. It must be nice to have an army to do your bidding.
“So, you think they’re real, too?” Ghost asks.
“I didn’t say that. I just pointed out that those nicknames are typical for that age group and gender, not unusual.”
“Our research showed that the boy who owns the Slick avatar goes to school with Doc in real life,” I tell her. “They share a classroom. We couldn’t find a photograph of him, but that’s not surprising given the underage image sharing laws.” Gattara nods, but not in confirmation or anything. It’s like she is saying “I hear you” but nothing more. Infuriating really, but she did just make my boobs more reasonable, so I’m grateful, for the time being.
“And Sleazy?” Gattara asks.
“We were hoping you could look into that for us,” Ghost says. “I was planning on showing Jude how we live out here in The Far Cinct.” Something about the way he says that catches my attention but I can’t tell what it is. I’m thrilled to go out exploring.
Gattara smiles at us, and I get that it means our audience is over. The garden changes back into a little room in a tiny store out in the crooked alley of the backwaters of The Far Cinct. Ghost pulls me to the door and we are out of there. I can feel myself breathe easier. Of course, that might be due to the giant weights lifted off my chest now. I can even stand taller. Oh what stupid choices we make. Thank goodness we can correct them out here in the land of the strange.
We are not far out the door when Pixie strolls up to meet us. How did she know? She is all smiles, confident in her abilities—so the opposite of me.
“Hey, Jude. Hey, Ghost.” I catch her glancing at Ghost’s tail still wound about my wrist.
Good. I’m happy she knows where we stand—friends. I have friends out here now. More than just Doc.
“Did you get what you wanted from the old lady?” she asks li
ke she knows that we inquired about her credentials.
“Not really,” I answer.
“Figures,” she says. “Gattara never tells you anything you don’t already know. It’s her thing.”
“Sometimes, it takes another to get us to realize what we already know,” Ghost says. You go boy! Spew philosophy at this young kitty. I don’t know why this makes me so happy. I feel Ghost squeeze my arm a bit, and I smile even wider.
“So, what did you hire her for? And how much?” Pixie asks.
I didn’t know we hired Gattara, did we? And we paid? Damn, how am I missing so much narrative from my own life? I have got to focus more on the here and now. I feel hopelessly behind. The world is moving, people are doing things, and I’m just gawking without comprehension. Pathetic. I am so angry with myself that my snakes, confused by the unexpected spike in my negative emotions, strike out randomly. One almost bites my own nose! I have to get my barnyard under control, I vow to myself. It’s embarrassing. I hear Pixie giggle softly and then stop abruptly—Ghost swiped at her with his paw. Good boy.
“Gattara will send out some of her minions to go through the available public records and see if there’s anything suspicious relating to Claudia or Doc or his dad or Jude’s dad or any one of us, for that matter,” Ghost explains.
It’s all a surprise to me. When did that happen? Did we get Gattara’s VirSAs to do work for us? How do I learn the results?
“And if you find anything?” Pixie asks.
“We’ll deal with that when it comes up,” Ghost tells her. He is very smooth in not mentioning to Pixie that she herself is under suspicion. At least I think she is—didn’t Gattara tell us not to worry about her? I’m not sure anymore.
“And how much will this information cost us? What did you bargain, Ghost?” Pixie continues to interrogate him.
I now feel like this is for my benefit—she wants me to understand the deal with Gattara.
“Yes, how much, Ghost?” I ask.
“It’s nothing really,” he says. “She owes me a favor.”
Pixie looks at him like she doesn’t really believe him. But she doesn’t push for more.
And I, sick of confrontation, am ready to move on too.
“So, what are you guys going to show me?” I ask, switching away from the gloom and doom.
“I figured I would take you around and show you how things worked out here,” Ghost says.
I like how it’s “I” and not “we”—Pixie isn’t invited, but that doesn’t mean she is not coming. She just smiles and tags along. Ghost lets her. I don’t mind either. I want to learn.
We walk down the narrow street. Ghost leads, I follow, and Pixie walks a few steps behind. There’s just not enough room for us to walk three abreast; the street is too narrow. Little shops dot the street with tiny doorways. But Gattara’s “little garden” showed there is absolutely no correlation between the size of the door and the space within. Whole universes could be hidden inside, apparently.
“I’ve been to one,” Ghost tells me, as if reading my mind, “where the owner reproduced one of the story worlds from Gulliver’s Travels.” I’ve never read that book or seen any of the movie adaptations, so I can’t visualize what he is talking about. “There are whole Lilliput villages, complete with a Lilliput Royal Court, and thousands of little Lilliputian inhabitants.”
“So, it’s like a movie ride?” I ask. It sounds a lot like one of the Disney movie preview adventures, so popular and populous at our local cyber arcade. Visitors have to be careful to go to ones labeled preview versus postview adventures, or too many plot twists are revealed and spoilers can ruin the whole movie experience later. There are even ushers stationed at the doors to help visitors make the right choice. I’ve been to a few adventures with my dad. There’s no need for a full avatar there, one can simply rent something while visiting. I was a fairy once; the wings were so annoying that Dad paid to have them removed halfway through the ride. I idly wonder how well my snakes would go over?
“It’s a little like that,” Ghost agrees. “But it’s not a commercial thing. At least, most are not for profit. Fans of a story—or just a single fanatical fan—create these worlds and have parties. I guess it’s a way to satisfy sehnsucht—life-longing—in some limited way. There are those who practically live in those worlds twenty-four seven.”
“Doesn’t sound too healthy,” I say.
“Some don’t have a choice.” Pixie says behind us. Ghost hisses at her. I wonder what that is about? Then I get it—Ghost didn’t have a choice. He’d been stuck in here for years. He probably visited a ton of such micro worlds. Virtual time takes a long time to pass. I’m starting to feel it too. This afternoon is lasting forever. And I’m not even hungry or tired yet.
“Do you have a favorite?” I ask Ghost.
“Alice in Wonderland,” Pixie pipes up again. “He made all of us go there.”
“Doc, Sleazy, Slick, and you?” I ask.
“It was fun, but crazy,” she says. “And we were there so long that Doc and I were in trouble for missing school the next day.” She is real, I make a mental note. “Sleazy and Slick managed to talk themselves out of being punished. I still don’t get that.” Pixie is clearly still bitter over that, even now. How long has it been?
“How did Claudia punish Doc?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Pixie says. “He doesn’t talk much about his mom.” That’s true. Another thing that points to Pixie being a real girl. She is doing a good job of convincing me. I glance over at Ghost. I can’t read him.
“Can we check out one of those places now?” I ask. It would be a good diversion while I was getting better and I would probably learn a lot.
“Okay. But not Alice. I had enough of that place,” Pixie says.
“You don’t have to come with us,” Ghost tells her.
“Oh yes I do—”
“Children. Children, please.” My whole menagerie is placating my companions. “I’m sure there are other adventures that are worth a visit out here, right?” I look at Ghost, but he doesn’t look happy. “You can take me to see Alice some other time, okay?” He purrs, and we have an agreement. “Is there a place you want to go to, Pixie?”
“Doc, Sleazy, and Slick are waiting for us at the new Sleeping Beauty forest,” Pixies says sweetly and steps in front of us to lead the way.
“Really?” That pink kitten has hutzpah. It makes me like her. Ghost obviously feels differently, at least at the moment.
20. They Be Dragons
It’s a nondescript door on an unremarkable gray building on a particularly mundane-looking street out on a dull corner of The Far Cinct. In other words, the place stands out—everything else around us is screaming for our attention while this little thing is trying hard to be bashful. I know camouflage and this is no camouflage. If Pixie wasn’t leading us directly to it, I could have easily gotten us there…after I spotted it, of course.
“Is this it?” I ask.
“They tried,” Pixie says. She too is obviously unimpressed with the Sleeping Beauty pavilion’s ability to remain nondescript.
“Perhaps that’s the point,” I say. “By trying so hard to be unexceptional, it attracts attention.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Pixie says. But I get a feeling she will kick something or someone when I’m not looking for making such a mess of our destination. Silly.
“Shall we go in?” I ask. I’m game. I don’t care what this place looks like on the outside. Appearances are very deceptive in The Far Cinct. I want to know what’s inside. I want to know how people can lose themselves in cyberspace for decades. I want to understand what Ghost did all those years alone.
“There are some rules,” Pixie says.
“Oh, come on,” Ghost hisses at her. “This is just a little diversion, right?”
Pixie ignores him. “You have to choose a character you want to become. It makes the experience better,” she adds.
I’ve be
en to movie rides where visitors can claim a perspective from which to experience the adventure. For example, in the “Baby Pirates” movie preview ride, Dad and I chose to be part of the pack of seagulls that harassed the treasure hunters while they looked for gold. We got to see everything from above. I know others who wanted to be one of the pirates—to each their own. The beauty of multiple perspectives is that visitors can come back again and again and experience the same movie preview differently each time. The psychology of marketing has come a long way, Dad told me. Whatever. Flying was fun.
“What are my choices?” I ask.
“Well—” Pixie starts, but I interrupt.
“Sleeping Beauty, right? Then I definitely don’t want to be the princess. She sleeps through most of the exciting parts.” I had had enough lying around in glass coffins, thank you very much. But as I say this, I note a strange silent exchange between Pixie and Ghost. It’s like he is angry with her or something. Maybe he is still sore at her for not going to the “Alice in Wonderland” world.
“I’ll be the prince,” Pixie says. I think back to what Gattara said about her wanting to be powerful. In all of the fairytales, princes get to save the girl. It’s never the other way around. I guess boy-heroes get all of the power…in the end.
But in the meantime, “I’ll be the dragon,” I claim my own powerful character.
“Dragon? There are no dragons in the Sleeping Beauty tale, are there?” Ghost asks. He looks at Pixie with a confused expression—a funny thing on a cat.
“She can be a dragon if she wants,” Pixie says. I get a feeling that if Ghost didn’t protest, she would have made me choose something else.
“Great,” I say with a bit of a fake enthusiasm. “I already have the green scales and many heads, so it won’t even be a stretch. What are you going to go as, Ghost?”
“The dragon’s sidekick?” he purrs.
“Purrfect,” I announce. “Are we all ready? Do we need to wait for Sleazy, Slick, and Doc?”
“No, they’re already inside,” Pixie says.