OtherEarth

by Jason Segel

  “Mr. Eaton.” The handsome secretary announces my arrival. Six middle-aged men rise to greet me, all of them creepy AF. Five are wearing bespoke suits, but I’m more interested in the guy rocking Dockers. One of Wayne Gibson’s arms is hanging in a sling across his chest. That must be the arm I shot at the facility the night Milo died and Kat escaped. Despite his injury and casual attire, he’s clearly the most powerful guy in the room. Behind the man is a wall of windows. We’re on the eighty-sixth floor, facing south. With a good pair of binoculars I could probably see my house in New Jersey. I feel an unexpected twinge in a part of my brain that’s been long neglected. For a moment I actually miss my mother. The boardroom is Irene Diamond Eaton’s natural element. She’d know exactly how to handle these assholes.

  A silver fox in a dashing charcoal suit comes toward me, hand stretched out to shake. “So glad you could come,” he says. “I’m Lawrence Bennett. Will Mr. Semenov be joining us as well?”

  “By video chat,” I tell him. “Here’s the number to call.” I hand him a scrap of paper.

  “Ah,” says Bennett looking down at it. “I see.” He’s pissed. If there’s one thing I know, it’s angry old white dudes. I lived with one for eighteen years.

  I take a seat across from Bennett and his fellow aging Ken dolls. They each introduce themselves, but I don’t bother remembering the names. When it’s time for Wayne to speak, he grins. “No need for introductions. Mr. Eaton and I are old friends,” he says.

  “I shot him,” I tell the men. “I’d shoot him again right now if I could.”

  Wayne laughs, but there’s no reaction from the Company’s board members. Their faces remain perfectly blank. It’s as if I never uttered a word. Are they human? I wonder. My discomfort is growing. I look around the room. The world seems much clearer than it has in days.

  “Shall we get Mr. Semenov on the phone?” Bennett asks.

  “Yes,” I say. Alexei may be a complete dick, but these guys are giving me the willies.

  A screen lowers at one end of the room. The phone rings three times. The screen lights up. Stationed in front of the camera is a taxidermied bear, its mouth open in a ferocious silent roar. “Hello!” Alexei greets the boardroom from off camera. “How is everyone this morning?”

  The board members exchange befuddled glances.

  “Mr. Semenov, this is highly irregular.” Bennett leans toward a microphone that’s embedded in the wooden table. “How can we be certain we’re speaking to you? Perhaps you are not aware that there is software that can replicate your voice. It’s available on the dark web. Anyone could get his hands on it.”

  “Maybe,” says Alexei—and although I can’t see him, I know he said it with a shrug. “But no one can get their hands on my Mischa. Putin and I shot him on vacation in Kyzyl. He is famous! I’m sure you have the technology to verify his identity—or does your facial recognition software not work on bears?”

  I’m no big fan of Alexei’s, but sometimes it’s impossible to dislike him.

  “This is absolutely bizarre,” mutters one of the board members.

  “Perhaps we should reschedule this meeting for a time when you’re able to be with us in person,” says Bennett.

  “As you all know, following Milo Yolkin’s unfortunate suicide yesterday, I purchased a great deal of the Company’s stock at very reasonable prices. I saved your corporation, gentlemen. Offending me would not be wise,” says Alexei. “If my feelings get hurt and I dump my shares on the market, the Company’s stock will hit rock bottom. Your operation may not be able to recover from a plunge like that. But I’m sure none of this is news to you. That’s why we’re all here today, is it not?”

  “It is indeed,” Wayne finally says. “What is it you want from us?”

  “The boy,” says Alexei.

  Wayne looks around at the other members of the board and chuckles. “I’m sorry. The boy? What boy?”

  Does this douchebag think we’re complete idiots? Does he think we’ll play his stupid games? “Declan Andrews,” I snarl. “Gorog.”

  “Ah, yes, that boy,” says Wayne, addressing the bear. He’s not planning to make this easy. “May I ask why you want him?”

  “That’s none of your business,” I tell him. “Hand him over by the end of the day or the Company’s stock won’t be worth the paper you wiped your ass on this morning.”

  The members of the board shift uncomfortably in their seats, but Wayne appears unperturbed. “Son, I don’t believe I was speaking to you.” He doesn’t even bother to look at me. He’s talking to the fucking bear. “Mr. Semenov is a businessman. He’s made a significant investment in the Company and I imagine he’d like to see it pay off. Now, we may not be able to grant his first request, but I have a feeling we might be able to find a way to satisfy his true desires. Mr. Semenov, we both know that you aren’t here for a thirteen-year-old boy. What is it that you really want?”

  There’s silence on the other end of the call. The bear stares us all down with its amber-colored glass eyes. I keep my clenched fists hidden beneath the table. I have no idea what Alexei’s going to say next.

  “A disk without bugs,” he tells them.

  Shit.

  “Fine,” says Wayne. “Consider it done.”

  “What?” I blurt out.

  “I want the only debugged disk,” Alexei adds.

  Wayne smiles. “That’s a bit trickier, Mr. Semenov. But we can assure you that you’ll be the only person in Otherworld with one. Let us use the technology for different projects, and we’ll be able to sweeten the financial aspects of this deal considerably.”

  “He’s promising something they can’t deliver,” I tell Alexei. “They don’t know how to fix the disk. Milo Yolkin is dead. There’s no one at the Company now who can do it.”

  “And you think you can, Mr. Eaton?” Wayne asks, sounding perfectly cool and in control.

  “Of course not,” Alexei replies for me. “He knows someone.”

  Wayne chuckles. “Mr. Semenov, as I’m sure you’re aware, the Company is the most successful tech corporation on earth. We employ the finest engineers and developers in the world. As we speak, our most brilliant employees are on the brink of debugging the disk. Who do you think is most capable of delivering the product you’ve requested—us or a homeless juvenile delinquent?”

  “You have no idea—” I start to say, but Alexei speaks over me.

  “Mr. Eaton says there’s only one man capable of fixing the disks—the man who invented the technology. He says he knows where to find him.”

  “James Ogubu?” Wayne scoffs. “Have you met him?”

  “No,” Alexei admits.

  “Of course not. No one’s seen James in ages. He’s dead, for all we know.”

  “James Ogubu is not dead,” Alexei replies. “I have it on very good authority that he has been seen in Otherworld.”

  Wayne chuckles as if he’s just uncovered the source of a misunderstanding. “You mean an avatar that looks like James Ogubu has been spotted in Otherworld,” he says. “I’ve only been to Otherworld once myself, but from what I recall, you can build an avatar that looks like pretty much anyone.”

  I have to admit—the asshole makes a good argument. Even though I know he’s wrong, I’m struggling to find the words to make my case. “It’s not an impostor, Alexei.” I can hear the desperation in my own voice. I sound as sweaty as I’m probably starting to look. “Trust me.”

  “Yes, by all means, trust him,” Wayne agrees. “There’s no doubt that James Ogubu has the mind and the skills to fix the disk. If Mr. Eaton manages to produce him in the real world, you’d be a fool not to offer him your allegiance. But until then, why not allow the Company to keep the boy and continue our work? We’re close to a breakthrough. We could have a safe disk in a matter of days. I can promise right now that you’ll not only get the first o
ne, you’ll also be able to profit from the Company’s latest venture. If our calculations are correct, it could add billions to your fortune.”

  “Alexei, you can’t listen—”

  “Shush,” the Russian orders me. “Never turn down a deal until you know what it is. What is your latest venture, Mr. Gibson?”

  “It’s something we call OtherEarth,” Wayne says. “We were planning to give you a demonstration, but I’m afraid it requires that you be here with us in person. Perhaps we could schedule—”

  “No,” says Alexei. “I am not interested in the demonstration. Give it to him.”

  Everyone’s eyes shift in my direction. Him means me.

  “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” Wayne’s cool is starting to crack.

  “I didn’t ask you what you thought of my idea,” Alexei responds testily. “Give Mr. Eaton the demonstration.”

  Suddenly things aren’t going Wayne’s way either. Alexei’s reactions aren’t easy to predict.

  Wayne’s smile is a bit tighter now. “Fine. Then let’s bring in our engineer.” He leans over to Bennett. “Larry, would you mind?”

  The other man hops up as if God himself had just whispered in his ear. Bennett walks to the conference room door, opens it, and ushers in my good friend Todd. My least favorite engineer may be dressed in a suit for his big presentation, but he’s still unmistakably bro. Todd glances at the screen and does a comical double take when he sees Alexei’s bear.

  Then he spots me and his eyes nearly pop out of his head. “What the f—”

  “Yes, I believe you know Mr. Eaton as well.” Wayne cuts him off. “He’ll be the one demoing OtherEarth today.”

  “Mr. Gibson, do you really think—” Todd starts again.

  “Yes. I really do,” Wayne says coldly.

  Todd doesn’t look thrilled by the state of affairs, but the engineer does as he’s told. I guess blindly following orders has gotten to be a habit by now. I look forward to hearing him try to offer that defense at his trial.

  Todd hands me a pair of black glasses that look perfectly ordinary. They’re much more streamlined than the augmented reality glasses Elvis assembled. The sides are wider than usual, I suppose, but not so much that they’d draw attention. Then Todd clicks a button on a remote and a second screen lowers at the other end of the room.

  “Put the glasses on,” he orders me.

  “Say please,” I hear Alexei say. “Mr. Eaton is my personal representative. There’s no need to be rude.”

  “Put the glasses on, please,” Todd corrects himself. He takes a seat beside me and places a tablet computer on the tabletop in front of him.

  I put the glasses on. They are perfectly clear. I glance over at the screen Todd just lowered. The image projected on it is my point of view.

  “Who is your favorite actress, Mr. Semenov?” Wayne asks.

  “Judi Dench,” Alexei answers with a yawn. “She brought M to life in a way no one else could. The Bond films without her have all been crap.”

  When Wayne laughs, the board decides to laugh too. “Yes, she’s wonderful. But perhaps there’s someone you’ve always found irresistibly attractive?”

  “Judi Dench,” Alexei insists. I don’t know him that well, but he certainly sounds sincere. Once again, he’s making it hard not to like him.

  “Then Dame Judi it is,” Wayne says. Todd types into his tablet and suddenly Judi Dench is standing in the room with me, wearing a shimmering gown that would look right at home on the Oscars red carpet. I take the glasses off and she’s gone. I put them on again and she’s back. “Say hello to my friend Mr. Eaton,” he tells her.

  Dame Judi’s platinum hair looks carefully tousled. Her deep blue eyes are surrounded by perfectly crafted laugh lines.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Eaton,” she says. I hear the deep, rich voice over the speakers in the room, but also in my own two ears. The glasses must have audio as well.

  “Very impressive.” Alexei sounds uninterested. “I would like to see her do a cartwheel.”

  Wayne looks pleased by the request. “You heard the man,” he tells me. I imagine it, and Dame Judi performs a perfect cartwheel. “Anything else?”

  “No,” says Alexei. “That’s it. I am bored. It’s Celebrity Pokémon GO. Who cares?”

  I snicker.

  “Oh, it’s so much more than that.” Wayne is scrambling. “With OtherEarth you can have any adventure you like—all without leaving the safety of your own environment. You can hunt monsters while you go for your morning jog or battle foreign spies on the subway.”

  “Pass,” says Alexei.

  The board members appear nervous. Maybe they really are human.

  “All right,” Wayne replies. There’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “Now, imagine your encounter with Dame Judi—and imagine you were wearing a disk.” He pauses to let the idea sink in. “The glasses alone will make the Company billions. Pair the glasses with a disk and we can charge anything we like.”

  “Why?” Alexei demands. “What is the big deal?”

  “I don’t think you understand,” Wayne tells him. “In OtherEarth you can choose any companion you like—for a price. You can speak to them. Feel them—”

  The horror of it all is beginning to settle in for me. Soon you’ll be able to buy a digital clone of any famous person you want. And you’ll be able to do anything you want to that clone.

  “So?” Alexei says. “I am a billionaire. I could buy the real thing.”

  “You could buy Dame Judi Dench?” Wayne scoffs.

  “Everyone has their price. Take my word for it.” The way Alexei says it, you get the sense that he knows what he’s talking about.

  Wayne leans forward, his good elbow on the table. “You may be able to buy companionship, but there are certain things that aren’t for sale,” he says slyly. “For instance, what if you weren’t interested in making love? What if you wanted to see what it was like to chop her up into bits?”

  “You are a very sick man, Mr. Gibson.” Alexei sounds utterly appalled, though I doubt he’s so squeamish. He’s screwing with Wayne, and it’s absolutely beautiful. “Why would anyone want to murder Dame Judi? She’s a treasure.”

  Finally, a question for which Wayne has no answer. His face falls. “Surely you can see how popular such an option might be. Think of the revenue.”

  “No, I prefer not. I have no interest in such things,” Alexei says. “This meeting has not been worth my time. I am interested in Otherworld only.”

  It makes perfect sense now that I think about it. OtherEarth can’t give Alexei a handsome avatar with a nose and a pecker.

  “Mr. Semenov—”

  “You were right, Mr. Eaton,” Alexei says. “These men are not so impressive. Bring James Ogubu to meet me tomorrow. Gentlemen of the board, as soon as I have confirmed that Mr. Ogubu is alive, I want the boy Mr. Eaton calls Gorog delivered to my home. Otherwise, I will dump my stock and your Company will die.”

  “Mr. Semenov!” Wayne tries again. But there’s no answer. Alexei is gone, and the giant bear stares back at us silently.

  The men sitting around the table look shell-shocked, but I’m the one who’s truly screwed.

  As my mother might have predicted, my lies have come back to bite me right on the ass. I should never have told Alexei that we’d found James Ogubu in real life. Now the race is on to locate his avatar before morning. I use the amulet to join Kat in the ice fields, and together we set out in search of Children. Our only hope is that someone will have spotted Fons and Ogubu and we’ll be able to pick up their trail. But so far there doesn’t appear to be a trail to follow. We’ve traveled from wasteland to wasteland, skirting the realms. If there are Children left in Otherworld, they’re all deep in hiding. From time to time, we’ve come across evidence of habitation—the remains of cam
pfires or lean-tos. But the beings that built them are long gone.

  For the past few hours, we’ve been hiking through rocky terrain. There’s no water here and no vegetation. Pillars of stone rise up around us. We’re high enough to see other realms and wastelands in the distance. There’s a patch of green that looks promising. It’s hard to tell how long it will take us to reach it.

  “Look,” Kat says. We’ve emerged from between two of the giant rock pillars into an open space. Not far away is another outcropping. A wide web has been strung between the rocks. It must be at least fifty feet from side to side. “How big do you suppose the thing that built that is?”

  I recognize the handiwork. “About your size,” I tell her. “Let’s go say hi.”

  Kat lifts an eyebrow. “You’re joking.”

  “Nope,” I tell her. She stays behind for a moment as I walk toward it, then hustles to catch up.

  “You sure you know what you’re doing?” Kat’s still skeptical. She thinks a beast built the web.

  “I think so.” If I remember anything from grade school, it’s that spiders catch their prey by sensing vibrations in their webs. I pick up a large rock and hurl it at the silken strands.

  Almost immediately a creature appears from above, daintily dangling from a single strand. She uses her many limbs to stop a few feet above us. I can see my reflection in all of her eyes.

  “It’s you,” she says.

  “Surprised?” I ask. “I bet you thought I was still stuck to the top of that cave. You know that was totally unnecessary, right?” If I hadn’t had the amulet, I’d probably still be up there.

  “Unnecessary? Perhaps. Prudent? Certainly,” the Child says. “What would you have done in my place?”

  “I don’t know—maybe trust me?” I say. “I did save you and your translucent friend’s asses.”

  “My apologies,” says the creature. “But in my experience, guests who save Children are not the saviors we hope they’ll be. My translucent friend, as you called her, died learning that lesson. The Children who’ve come here to live in my colony are tired of disappointment.”