We Are Watching Eliza Bright

by A. E. Osworth

  “Devonte”—he says to the machines—“Devonte Aleba”

  WE DON’T KNOW ANY DEVONTE ALEBA

  “I’m with Suzanne!” Devonte yells to the air and the door because he can’t see where We might have hidden the microphone—“I have Eliza’s stuff”

  WE DO NOT KNOW ANY ELIZA OR ANY SUZANNE—YOU MUST BE MISTAKEN

  “No,” This New Stranger Devonte replies “I know they’re here—she’s my friend—they’re my friends—I work at Fancy Dog”

  YOU MUST BE MISTAKEN—NO PEOPLE WHO HAVE CHOSEN THOSE NAMES EXIST HERE

  “I brought this suitcase for them”

  OF ALL THE PEOPLE HERE WHO USE THEY-THEM PRONOUNS NONE ARE EXPECTING A SUITCASE—PLEASE EXIT THE STAGE LEFT OR WE WILL RELEASE THE BEAR

  “No no—I mean for both—look, can I just come in and drop the suitcase off?”

  SORRY—THIS IS A CLOSED STUDIO—NO VISITORS—IF YOU DO NOT LEAVE WE WILL BE FORCED TO CONTACT OUR COMMUNITY ALTERNATIVE TO LAW ENFORCEMENT

  This Persistent Fellow Devonte smirks and says “Better chance of them showing up then”

  PARDON US—WE DID NOT HEAR THAT LAST BIT

  Devonte hears a familiar tone—a muffled voice he would recognize anywhere—and of course he does because he interacts with his two closest friends via microphone so often that even the “what? Someone here?” from the Janky speakers fuzzing out onto the stoop is an instant Antenna-Raiser and he cries out “Suzanne! Eliza! I have your things and I have things to tell you!” and then he hears Us talking in the Wah-Wah of assenting Peanuts incomprehensible adults

  OH—YOU CAN COME IN THEN!

  The door clicks open and Our New Friend Devonte mutters “Jesus Christ”

  Chapter Eighty

  Our Three Wonderful Protagonists gather in the elevator and draw the curtain across—a gesture toward privacy as the doors are halted in the open position—We can still hear them even as We try not to and Collaborator-In-Safety Devonte crosses his legs on the creaking bed—“This place is wild” he says and Yes! it is and We can tell he is Unused to living with Community or he might speak a little bit quieter and We Swear We are trying not to Eavesdrop but it is Impossible and now they are Part Of The Thrum and Hum of our Heart-Place and We Absorb their sounds

  “How did we not know about this?” Eliza asks

  “I didn’t tell you” Our Suzanne replies

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I didn’t want anyone gawking at me—I seem like I’m not private but I am and I’ve only known you two a couple years—give me a fucking break”

  Eliza (who is So Lovely and Wonderful) turns to Devonte (who is also So Lovely and Wonderful) and says “You said you had things to share?”

  “Yeah—I went to your apartment and I expected it to have—I dunno—crime scene tape or look like it was investigated somehow but when I got there I didn’t even need to use the key you gave me because it was still unlocked”

  Our Suzanne (who in this moment stands in perfectly for Our Reaction) raises her eyebrows—“‘Still’? what do you mean ‘still’?”

  “I mean it looked like no one had been in there since Eliza and Preston—like the food was still out—I know what you were eating—So I went down to the doormen and asked if any police officers had been by or if they’d requested it be left exactly as it was and Eliza—no one ever came”

  There is a pause and it’s a long one—Our Three Courageous Souls breathe and they smell the must and dust of a Very Old Elevator

  “Devonte” Eliza begins (too calmly in Our Humble Opinion) “are you telling me”—she takes a breath—“that the NYPD showed up”—she takes another breath—“for an animal welfare complaint”—a third gulp of air and We can hear the cracks this time in this Manufactured Zen and We can even hear the Tears beginning to brew at the corner of her left eye and then her right—not a cry of sadness but one of rage—“And did not show up for the doll? for harassment?”

  Our Strong and Sensitive Devonte knows that his answer will bring those teetering tears tumbling down Eliza’s cheeks and he doesn’t want to speak his single word out because he doesn’t want to make his friend cry or yell and he’d rather avoid this whole thing but he does it anyway because it’s the Truth and because silence is the same answer so he says “Yes”

  “What the absolute fuck!” Eliza wails and her two friends move out of the way as she whales her knuckles against the pillow and then when it’s not satisfying enough We hear the crash-bang of a hand hitting a wall and We grow Concerned for the Safety Of Our Community because she doesn’t know yet that the way We deal with Powerful Anger is to call a Powerful Anger Circle in the silks studio and participate in a Group Primal Scream and We will have to find a way to tell her that hitting a wall creates a Hostile Environment but We are not Unreasonable and We know that Straight People by and large haven’t been taught to deal with their emotions healthily

  “Whoa whoa” says Devonte because he’d expected yelling but not punching

  “Stop hitting my house!” Suzanne bellows and the elevator shaft is a Sound Artery so We all turn toward it and We wish We could remind her to tell Our Overwhelmed Eliza about the Possibility of a Powerful Anger Circle but instead she says “Come on you’re hurting yourself—stop!”

  Eliza gasps for breath and her knuckles are bloody and This is why We have Powerful Anger Circles! “I am so fucking fucked!” she says and “what do the police even do?”

  Our Incisive and Intelligent Suzanne replies with “kill Black people and turn New York City into a Capitalist Hellscape we can’t even afford to park in while providing white families headed by cis men with the illusion of a safety that doesn’t exist”

  Devonte elbows her and stifles a laugh he doesn’t think is appropriate and he wonders how he hadn’t guessed at Suzanne’s living situation given the things that come out of her mouth—then again how could anyone guess at this exact housing? We have made whatever it is that We wanted and most people aren’t Us—They don’t have the Capacity to set about wanting what We have

  “You need a Band-Aid—We have those” Suzanne continues “And we need a plan”

  “We?” Eliza asks “Neither of you have to— I mean you didn’t even have to put me up—It’s my problem”

  “We are not going to sit by and watch you suffer—Right Devonte?”

  “Right” he says and We can hear the reluctance—it’s a split-second hesitation and a sound like a throat clear but subtler—Our Suzanne is one of Us and used to operating in Community so she picks up on it as well and she flags it for her attention later

  “So we need a plan” Our Suzanne continues “and I still think that plan involves hacking”

  “So lawbreaking?” Devonte asks

  “Necessarily yes—the police aren’t doing anything to help Eliza so the law isn’t exactly working out—I think it’s time to come at this vigilante-style”

  “There’s just one problem” Our Astute Eliza says “I’m not a hacker”

  “You code and you can build shit—I’m sure you can get your way into—” but Eliza is shaking her head before Our Suzanne finishes—Devonte is too—and Suzanne halts her sentence and cocks an eyebrow—it is a look We know well—Stubborn Taurus Energy combined with a Mercury in Scorpio and a Mars in Aries

  “Hacking isn’t about the computer” says Devonte “Not really”

  Our Suzanne looks like she’s about to say “what the ever-loving hot fuck do you mean?” as she crosses her arms with her eyebrow still raised but instead she says “go on”

  “It’s—if you’ve got a hacker that’s all about what he can make the computer do that’s called a script kiddie—there are hordes of them and they’re just copying things—they don’t really understand—you don’t hack a computer—you hack people—computers might be the gateway but you’re really interacting with the people who use them—how do they think? what do they need their data for? what does safety mean to them? who do they trust? what does th
at person look and sound like? it’s—it’s much more social than television would have you believe—some of the most socially aware people on the planet are hackers—they aren’t basement boys lacking the ability to read faces—they just—use their powers questionably is all”

  Eliza and Suzanne are quiet—“It seems like you really know what you’re talking about” Suzanne says after a moment

  “I did once” admits Our Smart and Currently Very Lawful Devonte

  Eliza chimes in “I know enough to know I’m not a hacker regardless of what I can make the computer do And The Inspectre—he seems good—experienced—I don’t know that I could touch him”

  Our Suzanne turns back to Devonte “So it’s down to you then”

  Devonte stares at his friends incredulous and says “Look I just made it sound really romantic and all but it’s not—people go to real jail for this and I—I cannot go to jail”

  “Plenty of people never get caught ever” Our Suzanne points out

  Devonte purses his lips “Yeah but the way I see it, your best bet is to do the phone company—try to get his location through his phone number—and the phone company is hella litigious—the stakes of doing that—astronomical—probably no one will catch you but if they do that’s very very illegal and whatever phone company you fuck over will make sure you hurt forever”

  Chapter Eighty-One

  @theinspectre: tsk tsk tsk. you didn’t stay with @HumanMan long enough, @BrightEliza

  @theinspectre: he’s so sad at the vet’s office right now

  @theinspectre: @yrface @BrightEliza but you’re heartless. you didn’t stay long enough for me to catch up

  @theinspectre: I’ll find you eventually, @yrface @BrightEliza

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Suzanne: Dev, do you see it?

  Devonte: Yes

  Suzanne: What do we do?

  Devonte: I defer to Eliza, honestly

  Suzanne: Dev, she’s not on this group chat anymore, she doesn’t have her phone

  Devonte: Oh right

  Devonte: I mean, if we were to do something

  Devonte: IF

  Devonte: having him contact you more and not less is what you want

  Devonte: so maybe poke him in the eye a bit?

  Devonte: just, like

  Devonte: make sure your location is really really hidden

  Devonte: use a computer with a VPN. incognito mode. the works

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  @yrface: To @theinspectre (and yes, I’m going to Storify this all, immortalize this shit)

  @yrface: That was a dick move, attacking @HumanMan’s dog like that @theinspectre

  @yrface: We thought you had a code, @theinspectre

  @yrface: @theinspectre Turns out, you’re just a psycho-punk chopping tails off animals

  @yrface: @theinspectre and then, what, taking them?

  @yrface: Don’t fuck around with @HumanMan, @theinspectre

  @yrface: you’re hurting animals because you’re too afraid to come after us, @theinspectre

  @yrface: @theinspectre or maybe it’s because you’re not smart enough to find us

  @yrface: either way, @theinspectre, we win.

  @yrface: yes, to all who are asking—Dog is okay. #LongLiveDog

  (“Here, use this computer for it. I set it up already, they can’t trace us.”

  “What do I even say?”

  “Devonte says to make him keep talking to us, maybe something will slip. Make him reckless. I think the best thing is to make it seem like he’s losing. It’ll make him try harder.”

  “It sure seems like he’s winning to me. I’m sleeping in an elevator.”

  “Come on. This is cool. We worked really hard on it. It’s a really well-appointed elevator.”)

  @BrightEliza: To everyone who believes in #GamerGate and to any cowards who attack helpless animals for your “cause.”

  @BrightEliza: #GamerGate is a bunch of crap. It’s not about ethics. It’s about scaring women. I am not quitting—I never will.

  @BrightEliza: I am not scared, I never will be.

  (“You sound really fucking brave. Is all that true?”

  “I don’t know—I’m definitely scared, so that part’s not true. About the quitting, though, I did get a maybe-something from See No Monkey—”

  “Holy shit, that’s wonderful. Fucking congrats.”

  “They seemed to back off, though. After the doll thing this morning. Gosh, was that this morning? It feels like years ago.”

  “Ugh. I’m sorry. That’s balls and they’re cowards.”

  “Even if they do offer, though, I don’t know if I’d take it.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “That’s the thing. About the not quitting. I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t know if I want to do this anymore. Look, I know I did this all wrong, but I don’t think I deserve this? I like games but—like, all this is over a game. This whole thing is over games. That’s kinda fucked. I don’t know if I can really do this, sacrifice myself like this, for a fucking game.”

  “Fair enough. But like—games. They’re never just games. Just like they’re never just memes or just a joke. It’s all the culture, you know? Like all this, it’s the fabric of our lives. It’s all a reflection of everything we do, everything we believe. It’s how we communicate what we value to other people. It’s the way we socialize, the things we talk about. You know it’s not just games.”

  “But it also is! It also is just games! The stakes are supposed to be lower about games, that’s the whole fucking point of them! And there are one million other ways for me to participate in culture. I could disappear into the sunset and make an anonymous meme account. I could, I don’t know, draw comics. I wanted to do that once.”

  “That world is no better. Same world. It’s all the same world.”

  “Also, since when are you so romantic about games?”

  “I play this thing just as much as you do, don’t erase me from it. Who do you think turned Us on to the VR shit? It certainly wasn’t Lil and Lyle by themselves.”

  “I would miss it, though, I think. If I quit. The good parts. For sure. And I don’t want to, like, let them win. I just don’t know. I’m so scared.”)

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  We are back now, us, the real us, not those candy-ass bitches. This is our story. Ours. Devonte stops tweeting. Runner Quick stops showing up in Windy City. They both step out of our story for a bit. And we know why:

  Devonte, restless and worried about what they are asking of him, walks twenty blocks away and hails a cab back to Manhattan, dreaming of his peaceful home, sans demands. Even Suzanne, who should know a little bit more about what she is asking, doesn’t seem to. They don’t seem to understand that lawbreaking means something different for him, in his body, than it does for them. It’s just like women, to ask the big strong man to assume all the risk. Devonte is exhausted; the workhorse of the group, meant to run errands and stay strong in the face of all the destruction and dysfunction, still expected to show up to work in the morning when Suzanne has been excused, able to work from home if she does it carefully. Preston gave him no such recompense. And we figure that figures—the men go underappreciated here, when the man is the one able to solve most of the problems the girls face. The only one with experience in social engineering and computer engineering, both. See, this is why they’ll come running back to us when their ideal world crashes and burns. He has earned another bourbon or time to listen to his records or maybe even the opportunity to play Guilds with the Vive alone, blessedly alone. The important part, we think, is “alone.” The opportunity to relax by himself, no expectation, no guilt. It is late. It is dark.

  When he arrives, however, his hallway is packed with four other humans, three of them tall and square and looking like they don’t fit in the space. Because it is narrow and they are not; because it is posh and they are not. One is much shorter, braids reaching down her back, a look on her face like she’s
sucked on a lemon.

  “Aunt Ida, what—”

  But Devonte cannot finish because he is interrupted by a smack on the back of his head. “What the hell did you do?” Ida hisses. She is keeping her voice down because sound bounces in this building, but her anger is apparent, nonetheless.

  “What do you mean?” Devonte asks, and he barely gets the question out.

  “Let us inside. We’ve been out here for hours. It’s a damn miracle your neighbors haven’t called the cops.”

  Ever the obedient nephew, Devonte unlocks the door and ushers Aunt Ida and his cousins, Jacob, Isaiah and David, all into his apartment. He notices the duffle bags, Jacob carrying two of them, and he begins to panic. A deep, time-traveling panic that now rockets forward, something that sat deep in his youngest self, a sensation we know so well. The boys shoot him dirty looks and, if he were a different person, Devonte might feel nostalgia for the split lips, the nut flicks, the running and hiding of his youth. But he doesn’t, because he hated his cousins and no amount of childhood magic could make them into jolly giants. In short, they were mean, idolized, cool, and probably still are; children that meat-headed don’t often change. We know. They were our oppressors, these football brick houses, these popular boys.

  Ida had been different, though, when Devonte was growing up. She took pity on her soft nerd-boy nephew, smaller than her children by a head and shoulders at minimum. She always got him books for Christmas; she let him bake cookies in the kitchen instead of playing basketball, a sport at which (like all team sports) he was abysmal; she did nothing more than raise a single eyebrow and say “change it back” when he’d mess with and break her family’s computer. He would sweat until he’d figure out how to put it right, but he always did. She never rushed him or hassled him or yelled at him, and in return she never had to go to the principal’s office on his behalf. He never let her down.