He put his hand in again, and again he was launched into a spin. Again he made his way back to the column of water. But this time he sped up and he approached it, throwing himself into a sideways drift such that the water hit him in the belly. It pushed hard, causing him to double over as his torso was lifted upward. It felt funny and out of control, but it was working, and it didn't hurt. It pushed him along quite quickly, for quite some time, then tossed him a short ways into the air. It was as if he had been thrown into the air by a fountain. He briefly caught a glimpse of a vast white-walled interior space, then fell back into the obscuring mist. He kicked his way back to the surface, and his head and shoulders popped into clear air. The silvery water bubbled up several feet into the air next to him, and spread out in every direction, apparently turning into the mist. Overhead, a circle of daylight shown from the center of the far-away ceiling.
Raymond scanned the space around him, spotted something that looked like a deck overlooking the mist, and swam toward it. There was a closed door at the far side of the deck.
Thank god—a way out.
He clambered onto the deck, headed straight for the door, and pulled it open. It let into a long hall with a pool, and a floating island of cushions—the same court he had been in before. He saw his airboard, right where he had left it, and breathed a sigh of relief. But it felt odd to arrive here. He didn't remember there being any door out the back of the hall. He turned and saw that this side of the door he had just come through was flush with the wall.
Cool, a concealed door.
A massive rumbling from outside reminded Raymond of the urgency of his situation. He sprinted to where his airboard lay, scooped it up under his free arm, and headed for the entrance to the court. Just in time to witness an image of destruction he had never dreamt of seeing.
About two thirds of the way up Mount Lidral, a massive eruption blew out the side of mountain, and he saw the mountaintop slide down in an avalanche of inconceivable proportions. Mushrooming plumes of ash shot out, and the pyroclastic blast flattened the forest at the base of the mountain with stunning speed. It was headed his way, and the distance from the mountain to the spot where he stood suddenly seemed paltry.
"Shit."
He mounted his airboard, placed the globe in front of him, and flew out the entrance. The globe made it awkward to maneuver, but once he was aimed away from the mountain he was able to accelerate to a speed that felt manageable.
A shadow fell over him. He looked over his shoulder and saw a black cloud of ash now miles across. The mountain was completely blotted out, and the cloud was continuing to grow. At this rate, it would envelop the white city soon, and would overtake him seconds later. Even if he dropped the globe, he wouldn't be able to fly fast enough to outrun the pyroclastic cloud. His mind raced—what could he possibly do to take cover?
Use the globe!
It suddenly dawned on him that Tomas had given him the key. Raymond turned the globe in his hands until he found the Village. He put his finger on the dot and said, "I want to go there."
Chapter 16
Raymond looked up from the globe to find himself stopped dead, floating on his airboard above a placid old forest. He recognized Mount Golgora to his right, atop which he saw the speck of his workspace. Winding through the trees below was Orlea Brook, red as holly berries. Nearer the foot of the mountain, he saw the bend in the brook where his mossy yoga spot was. It felt good to be among so many recognizable places, away from the destruction—at least for now.
He looked straight down. Below was a roughly circular clearing, crisscrossed by foot trails, with a large thatched roof near the center. He descended in a sweeping corkscrew pattern to take a closer look.
"Raymond!" called out a boy's voice from somewhere in the trees, roughly level with Raymond.
Raymond pulled the board to a stop and looked for the source of the voice.
"Raymond, over here," called the boy again.
A bit of motion caught Raymond's eye, and he saw a tree house high among the branches. A smiling boy was hanging out of a window, one foot on the rough-hewn sill, the other dangling in mid-air. Raymond flew closer, cautiously surveying the area around him as he approached.
"Where have you been, Raymond?"
"Hello there," responded Raymond, uncertainly. "I'm sorry, something's wrong with my memory. Who are you?"
"Eddie! How can you not remember me? You got amnesia or something?"
Raymond drifted past several big leaf clusters, in among the branches, and stopped a safe distance from the boy.
"It's okay," said Eddie. "I'm your friend. Hey, what's that globe?"
I'm your friend?
Something about this phrase put Raymond on his guard. It triggered a memory. He associated it with a voice. A voice that wasn't to be trusted. But he couldn't put a face or a name to the voice. It was a man's voice, not a boy's.
"You alright?" asked Eddie. He had a disarming look about him. His thick eyebrows were bunched up with concerned inquisitiveness, while his wavy smile was at once goofy and skeptical.
"Sure. I'm fine," said Raymond.
"Come on, let's go to the clubhouse. I think I saw Diane headed in there. She'll be happy to see you."
Eddie withdrew through the window.
"Who's Diane?" called Raymond.
No response. From within the tree house, Raymond heard a sound of wood smacking against wood, as from a door closing. A moment later, Eddie dropped down from beneath the floor of the tree house, riding a wooden step suspended from a rope. The rope unreeled from within the tree house and the step descended with a smooth swinging motion, slowing to a stop at ground level, where Eddie stepped off.
"Come on!" he hollered from far below, and off he walked to the thatched-roofed building in the middle of the clearing.
Raymond was reluctant to follow, but his curiosity was piqued. He flew down, landed, and leaned his airboard next to the entrance of the building. It was a partially enclosed tropical pavilion with a relaxed, inviting feeling about it, like a summer-camp clubhouse. He pushed his way through the flimsy swinging door, globe tucked under one arm.
The interior was one big breezy room, with a bar at one end, a few tables and chairs in the middle, and a large holographic gaming table at the other end. Wicker-bladed ceiling fans slowly turned, out of sync with each other. Behind the bar, a middle-aged woman in a tank top was mixing drinks. She had graying brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail. The boy, Eddie, stood next to one of the tables, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I told you it was Raymond," said Eddie to the woman.
"Hello, Raymond," said the woman. "Can I make you a drink?"
"This is Diane," said Eddie to Raymond. "Raymond lost his memory," he said to Diane by way of explanation.
"I don't usually drink," said Raymond, "but I think I could use one now."
Eddie pulled out a chair, motioned for Raymond to take it, then plopped down in another. He slapped his hands down on the table. "I can't wait to hear your latest stories! How did you lose your memory?"
"I don't rightly know," said Raymond. He was too tense to sit, instead resting a hand on the back of the proffered chair while Diane made his drink. "In a sense, it wasn't mine to lose."
"What on earth does that mean?" asked Eddie, dramatically flabbergasted.
"I... wait, I'm the one who should be asking questions here. Do either of you have administrative access?"
"Administrative access," repeated Eddie. "What's that?"
"How about you, Diane?"
"Only you have administrative access," said Diane.
"Interesting," said Raymond. "So you actually know what I'm talking about. Do you have any access to external processes, or the operating system?"
"I'm afraid not, Raymond." She stopped stirring and looked at him. "You should know that."
"Is Hank the Handler around?"
"Nope," said Eddie. "He's out with the howler monkeys."
Diane joined the
m at the table, setting a tall glass in front of Raymond and another at her own spot. She sat down, and Raymond followed suit. He set his globe down on the floor and spun the glass in place on the table, enjoying the cool wetness of the condensation. It was a slightly cloudy drink, with gobs of bright green leaves in it.
"What, I don't get one?" complained Eddie.
Diane gave him a stern look. "You're thirteen years old."
Raymond took a good look at Diane. She seemed familiar. So did Eddie.
"Are you trying to remember who we are?" asked Diane.
There was a dry edge to her voice that clicked—he remembered who she reminded him of.
"Brody," said Raymond. "Of course. I must have wanted to feel like I was with people who meant something to me, so I added elements of real people. And Eddie is the Eddie from the Joliet Home, that kid I thought might be nice to get to know."
"You're doing that thing," said Eddie, "where you talk about us like we're not right here—like we can't hear you."
"Right, sorry. I guess I really tried to make you realistic." He took a sip of his drink. It was refreshing—carbonated, sweet, and minty, but with a bit of a kick to it.
"Mojito," said Diane. "You like it?"
"It's nice."
"I wonder if you can get drunk," said Diane.
"I wondered the same thing before I uploaded. Did I never get drunk while I was here at the Village?"
"No," responded Diane.
"How long did I spend here?"
Eddie looked to Diane to answer.
"Three months," said Diane. "This memory loss... have you noticed any other mental issues?"
"I wouldn't exactly call my situation a mental issue. I—"
Raymond stopped short when he heard the clubhouse door open. In walked an old southeast-Asian woman. On her back she carried a tall wicker basket full of vegetables. Her face lit up when she saw Raymond, and she nodded and smiled vigorously. Raymond raised his eyebrows and smiled tentatively in response. An old southeast-Asian man came in behind her, and he called over his shoulder in Vietnamese. Raymond guessed that they might be a family, as another old woman came in, followed by a couple in their late thirties or early forties and a couple of young girls. All smiled at Raymond, and some greeted him, but he had the sense they couldn't speak English. Those with baskets dumped their harvest on the bar and tables and set about cleaning and sorting everything.
"You don't remember them either?" asked Diane.
"Uh... no. Do you know if they speak English?"
Diane shook her head.
"Did you lose all your memories?" asked Eddie. "Do you remember who you are?"
"Sure, I just don't remember everything after I uploaded. Did I program you to ask me questions all the time or something?"
"Him, yes," said Diane. "You programmed him to be highly curious. You programmed me to scrutinize you and ask you the sorts of questions a psychologist might ask." She took a sip from her drink. "And questions of a more philosophical nature," she added. "For instance, do you regret uploading?"
Raymond absent-mindedly looked out the window, vaguely aware of the Vietnamese family laughing and sorting vegetables, and he let out a big sigh.
"Right now I do. I'm a stranger in my own world. Something is seriously screwed up, and I can't figure out what."
"Screwed up how?" pressed Diane. "And if things weren't so screwed up, do you think you would still have regrets?"
"I don't know. I'm so lost at this point, I don't know what to think. Anya's dead, apparently." He looked to them, wanting them to react to the significance of this, but their expressions indicated no sense of understanding or compassion. "I don't know how she died, and I don't know if I ever could have had a chance to set things right with her anyway. And Nurania certainly isn't what I expected."
"But you did it—you uploaded," said Diane. "That must make you proud."
"Proud? I don't know, should it?"
The door opened again, and a woman Raymond's age walked in. She looked as though she had just come in from a farm—overalls, long braided pigtails, tanned skin, and a broad floppy hat. She stopped short, a look of happy surprise at seeing Raymond.
"Hi, Raymond. What brings you back?" she asked in a friendly way.
She approached him with arms open. Raymond made a motion to stand, stopped, and asked who she was, explaining again that he had lost his memory. She put a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm Bailey. I can't believe you lost your memory—that's awful. It's so good to see you. Are you going to be here long? I'd love to have you over for dinner."
"Um, I don't really know. If I'm still around, where can I find you?"
"I'll be in the clinic, practicing my veterinary skills. I'm level 89 now."
"Level 89? There are levels?"
"Yeah, I'm 89 in veterinary skills, 56 in gardening, 40 in pottery, 40 in basket weaving, 35 in swimming... the list goes on. And, the Nguyen family here," she said, motioning toward the Vietnamese family, "they're like level one-hundred-something at gardening, and at cooking. You should try their mi quang! And I think Hank maxed out in animal handling and veterinary skills."
"Interesting that I introduced a skill system."
"Gives life a sense of structure," said Diane. "Having clear goals gives you a way to measure progress and compare yourself with others—a motivating spark."
"That makes sense," said Raymond. "Is there a robotics skill?"
"Sure," said Bailey. "You were almost level 27 the last time I saw you. You must be way up there by now."
"I have no idea. Hey, did I have a robotics lab?"
"Yeah, do you want me to show it to you?" asked Bailey.
"Yes!" Raymond grabbed the globe and stood up.
"Now, then?" asked Bailey.
"Yes—right away."
Raymond followed Bailey outside and across the clearing. Eddie came running out after them. Bailey gestured for Raymond to walk beside her.
"How's Salya?" she asked.
"Salya? I don't know."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I figured she would be with you." They walked a distance in silence. "You can see part of the lab there." She pointed up into the trees. Raymond spotted another tree house, and a rope bridge leading from it to yet another. "It's split up into five houses," she explained.
"Did I make anything cool?" asked Raymond.
"Well, I think so," replied Bailey. "You were never satisfied, but I think the robots you built were amazing."
They walked among the old trees. Above them was a vast network of platforms, ladders, and bridges. Raymond stopped a moment, to take it in. The more he looked, the more he discovered—ladders, slides, tubes, zip-lines, rope swings, pulley-contraptions.
"What's the bull's-eye for?" he asked, pointing to what looked like a red-and-white target suspended from a rope.
"Archery," replied Bailey, who had stopped a short distance ahead. "You want to try it?"
"No... sounds like fun, but I should check out the robotics lab."
Bailey walked a little farther, then looked straight up and called out, like someone calling for a far-off pet, "Ellie! Ellie!"
Raymond looked up. He saw something moving along the top of a branch—something small. It moved like a squirrel, but the light shown off it as if it were metallic. It ran to an open-air rope-and-pulley elevator and jumped onto the wooden platform, which rapidly descended and decelerated smoothly to stop a few feet from where Bailey stood. In the middle of the platform, perched on its haunches, sat a robotic squirrel, chattering away and twitching its spiky bottlebrush tail.
Eddie raced onto the elevator, and Bailey and Raymond followed. The squirrel plucked a metallic acorn from a slot in the floor of the platform—a slot clearly designed to hold the acorn—and the group rose into the air. The platform swung side-to-side, and Raymond and Eddie both grabbed hold of the ropes that connected the platform to the weathered wooden pulley above them.
"Been a while, Raymond?" teased Bailey, who stood
completely unfazed by the motion.
"Yeah, I—hey he went for a rope, too!" said Raymond, pointing at Eddie.
"I think he was just being nice," said Bailey. "He rides this all the time."
Eddie grinned at Raymond. He swung one leg over the edge and put on an expression of mock panic.
"Yeah, yeah," said Raymond. "Whatever."
They reached the top, and Raymond saw a rope ladder leading up to the branch above. How the pulley system was powered was unclear, and Raymond guessed it was the magic of v-world mechanics at work. One by one, they climbed onto the broad flat-topped branch and walked single-file into the nearest lab building.
Raymond expected to find a cluttered workspace, components and half-built robots lying about on workbenches and in bins. Instead, he found a large open room, sparsely furnished—a few tables, a tall stool, and a cluster of chairs.
"Where's all the stuff?"
"It's all on-demand," said Bailey. She stepped up to one of the tables, and the tabletop rose to a comfortable working height. "Restore my 'whiskers' project," she instructed, and the work surface was instantly populated with dozens of small parts and tools, all neatly laid out. In the middle was a little white mouse-shaped robot with long metallic whiskers.
"Of course," said Raymond. "Not being in a v-chamber, I guess I kinda forget I'm in a virtual world. But I get so many of my ideas just sorting through junk."
"Oh, you do have a junk room," said Bailey.
She led the way outside and across a rope bridge, to another lab building, smaller than the first.
"This is more like it."
Strewn about the floor were wicker baskets of various sizes and shapes, brimming with arms, wheels, motors, gears, rods, pulleys, grippers, lights, cables, moldable plastic, snap-together components, clear boxes full of smaller components, and all manner of miscellany—some of which Raymond didn't even recognize. He squatted down next to one of the baskets and started going through it.
"What are you looking for?" asked Eddie.
"I don't know, exactly. Something useful. Some way to access the operating system on this machine. Or just something that might come in handy while I'm exploring. Like a weapon, maybe."
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