The first thing Devonte notices about flying through the world as Lone is the silence. No pings, no prodding, no “look”s or “he works here!”s. The second thing he notices is: nothing. He supposes he expected more of a climax, and he laughs a little. There shouldn’t be a climax to creating a new character. That’s all it is; making a new skin. Easy as a few selections. Easy to remake a body to fit tonight’s whims. The flight is the most impressive thing about this, on the Vive. It no longer makes people nauseous to stand still and soar at the same time, but he half expects it to. It only feels a little strange, like standing in the aisle of a moving local subway train while looking through neighboring windows of an express train, passing quickly. His body adjusts and before long it’s as if humans have always been able to fly and he feels like he should be able to do this in the physical world as well, is mad that he can’t. He has a dream like this at least once a month. Where he takes off into the sky with no wings to assist him.
He flies into the city proper and touches down, looking to pick a fight. With a brand-new character like this, he needs easy XP fast. So he goes to where The Hooligans hang out—a particular overpass where sullen preteen boys make throwaway characters to heckle and harass passersby. As Runner, he’s taken great joy in walking into the shadows there and, when someone shoots a gun or a laser at him, wiping out the lot of them before they can react. He smiles thinking about it—about how time almost slows for him, about walloping each smug little shit in the back of the head. It’ll take more, with Lone. He is brand-new, after all, the equivalent of a shaky newborn lamb. But these kids make throwaways, like we said, and they hoot and ah when they get eviscerated fantastically. It’ll take more, but it won’t take that much.
He smirks and advances. He can hear them, see their typed script. He knows they’re there, and he waits. He waits for someone to start some shit.
He is so surprised when he comes out the other side and nothing happens, as anticlimactic as making a new character itself had been. Puzzled, he tries again. No one hurls a missile at him. No one even makes an outdated “your mom” joke.
Devonte’s face throbs under the headset. He thinks he knows why, why they’ve fucked with Runner and not Lone. But what if it’s just because he’s level one? Or because when he walks through here as Runner, he has that stupid badge by his name indicating he’s a Fancy Dog employee? There are a million reasons why they’re not targeting him right now, he thinks. But what if it is that particular reason? He signs off in disgust. He is too tired to play anyway. He spends a lot of time staring at his ceiling in bed. His body is exhausted, but his mind keeps talking to him. He feels insane.
Chapter Ninety-Five
We are obsessed with what goes on where we can’t see it. A black box. In short, we still cannot find Eliza or Suzanne and it is making us froth at our collective ever-hungry mouth. We want to make sure we mark time passing. Time is passing. Slowly, excruciatingly. If we were in a cheap movie, we’d see days being ripped off a desk calendar in a wibbly soft focus. Days pass and Lewis goes to work, sedated and sleepless after his breakdown. He is getting no better. Days pass and Suzanne continues to sign on, meet Preston. She’s borrowed some of the equipment from work (express mailed to her by Preston himself). Preston’s taken to playing at home now. Something he hasn’t done in ages. Turns out, an empty apartment is perfect when reality is virtual. Days pass and Devonte gets used to his new alter ego and has very mixed feelings about it. Days pass and we still haven’t found them, have not yet come to be acquainted with the outside of the warehouse.
Chapter Ninety-Six
Of course We know what’s going on because We can see and hear them—Hear them especially—Our Suzanne has set up VR equipment in her cubicle and We are going to have to have a talk about her not Sharing Her Resources And Knowledge with the Collective and also We understand the need for Personal Space and Boundaries and wouldn’t subscribe to the capitalist notion that every single thing she does must somehow pay us a return on our Time and Friendship—she especially loves to play when We are using the recording studio because it grants her the (false) sense of privacy that the noises never escape the cork walls—They Certainly Do—and We are used to the Sounds of Sex and it is No Big Deal and We know she is up to something and We want to know what’s going on—who she’s Seeing and what software she’s using and We want her to Get It Get It Get It Girl because she hasn’t brought someone home in a long time and We were worried she wasn’t using her Queerness to its Fullest Advantage and also We don’t place a person’s total value on the Sex they have and also there’s no hierarchy in identities (excuse Us) it just sometimes seems the Straight People Are Not Okay
Eliza largely remains in the elevator—she waits and she sleeps and she listens to Our sounds and hears the soft moaning We know is coming from Suzanne but Eliza doesn’t know that because We are always fucking Someone and Each Other and unless one knows Us very well Our Noises are indistinguishable and anyway she is too busy cocooning—forming her chrysalis and Healing from the trauma—We worry though—We worry that she is crossing from a Healing-Space into one of self-harm and We are all trained in Police-Free Bystander Intervention in the event of self-harm—it’s Community Care and We must help her Emerge
It is morning and Eliza wakes when the elevator doors shudder to life—she springs from bed as they close behind the curtain and the entire space lurches toward the ground floor and when the doors open again she is wide-eyed and feral with fear—she’d be snarling if she weren’t human
We say It’s okay from beyond the still-drawn curtain—Open the curtain—We just want to talk—We are worried about you
Eliza slowly peeks her face through the curtain to face Us—the Many-Headed Hydra of the Sixsterhood-minus-Our-Suzanne and she doesn’t remember all our names in the swirl of her despair and panic and that’s okay because We deeply appreciate a person’s limits in a time of duress—We are an undulating sea of Purple Hair Dye and Septum Piercings and Mesh Shirts and Mullets and Leg Hair and Matte Lipstick—every body a Good Body and everyone a Babe—One of Our hands is on the big red lever that controls the elevator guest room
Before you say anything—We decree—We want to acknowledge the ways We have disagreed on Our course of action this morning as there is a wide swath of Acceptable Best Practices in this kind of Situation and reasonable minds can differ on the best way forward
Yeah like you are reacting perfectly reasonably to a Shitty Situation and We just want to be clear about that
but there are a couple of things We want to reassure you about? because We don’t want you to be this scared?
We’re not gonna let anyone in and this place is technically leased to a business so no one’s going to find you here At All—it’s not a logical fear and also All Feelings Are Valid and your fear is reasonable fear
Right—and even if someone does find you? We have a Community Safety Plan in place and We’re not gonna let anything happen to you and you can take a look at it if you want—We built it on post-it notes and they’re on a poster board by the fridge in the kitchen and We think it’s pretty good!
Second thing is it’s totally fine to have a mental health meltdown right now but this is a Community that Supports folks in getting Help, so—you don’t have to do it today and you don’t have to do it tomorrow but We are going to make sure you get to a Therapist because No One should have to go through this without a Therapist
Third thing is you are relying too heavily on Our Suzanne—no single Community member should bear the weight of sole responsibility in a Crisis Scenario
Yeah Our Suzanne has been weird and not the good kind of weird—not the normal kind of weird—
So We need to think of ways for you both to Co-Exist here and maybe for you both to Get Out Of The Building for a little and We Intend to have a Community Strategizing Vegan Dinner about it after the holiday
Yeah It’s Christmas Eve Eve so like We said—Not today and not tomorrow—We’re havi
ng our Winter Holiday and Solstice Tree Trimming Ceremony tonight anyhow and We’d love it if you joined Us and tomorrow morning is a Nice Big Breakfast that We all make Together and it’ll just be weird if you sit in this elevator through all of it—so you don’t have to go out but like maybe explore the Sixsterhood today? you took a tour but you really haven’t seen everything and you can use any of the equipment you want!
We’ve had a Community meeting and decided to put a whole bunch of fabric over the windows and We think probably that’ll be a little bit easier
“And I’m painting on it gosh it’s so much fun check it—”
Anyhow—a stern look—Wander today—you don’t even have to change out of your pajamas if you don’t want to but We want to remind you that there is laundry here and you smell like death
“Oh My God You Cannot Say That—”
“What? it’s laundry—she should do some laundry instead of changing into the same three things—”
“Let her see the warehouse fuck don’t give her chores!”
“I can’t give her chores Bunny it’s not a hierarchy and I don’t have the power to give her—”
Eliza is a little stunned and We think it’s because she wasn’t aware that We cared—but of course We care! it’s impossible to see someone go through something like this and not care and she says “I could—uh—I could get out of the elevator I think—do laundry—walk around the warehouse”
Good—now! Actual Breakfast! We can see your ribs through your shirt and you can’t just have Our Suzanne bring you toast forever
Eliza looks around and asks “Where’s the tree?”
It’s getting delivered this afternoon
This perks Eliza’s ears up because it is so strange to her that she forgets her fear for a second—“You can get Christmas trees delivered?”
Solstice Tree, We reply
Chapter Ninety-Seven
@BrightEliza: I’m done
@Fleishmaster: I know.
@BrightEliza: you’re an asshole
@BrightEliza: I don’t mean I’m done in the industry, I don’t mean I’m done at life
@BrightEliza: which I’m sure is what you’re hoping for
@BrightEliza: I’m done letting your actions have all this power over me
@BrightEliza: I can’t leave a goddamn building because of you, but I’m not going to let you make me afraid like this anymore.
@BrightEliza: and maybe you haven’t been fired (Lord fucking knows why not)
@BrightEliza: and maybe I don’t have the power to make sure you don’t get hired again if you are
@BrightEliza: but just so you fucking know
@BrightEliza: as of right now, at least, I have options
@BrightEliza: If I run off into the woods somewhere and become a hermit, it’s because I CHOOSE to
@BrightEliza: I can keep working in the industry, I can come back to Fancy Dog or go to See No Monkey, whatever I want, I’m good.
@BrightEliza: despite your efforts, I’m even more sought after than before
@BrightEliza: and I have friends. People who are helping me out right now. A community of actual, IRL PEOPLE.
@BrightEliza: you. What do you have? You had one friend and that dude is GONE.
@BrightEliza: you had the game, but hey, with him gone, is that fun anymore? Or is that just another reality you have to maintain?
@BrightEliza: all you have is this one job and a whole HOST of people who aren’t going to touch you with a ten foot pole. I bet even your mother is ashamed of you.
@BrightEliza: if you were wiped off the face of this planet this second, the only person who’d care is Brandon
@BrightEliza: because your code wouldn’t be in on time and he’d have to hire someone else to do it
@BrightEliza: congratulations, Lewis Fleishman.
@BrightEliza: the only worth you have in this world is the work you do for others, in service of their ideas, not yours, you vulture
@BrightEliza: rot in hell
Chapter Ninety-Eight
See No Monkey: Hello Ms. Eliza Bright! My name is Courtney and I’m in charge of booking your travel for your contract work in Santa Cruz! I would love to get some information from you about your flight preferences/requirements, your known traveler number if you have one, dietary restrictions and some (rather arcane, my apologies!) information to help us get you some temporary housing.
Eliza: Hi Courtney! Last I heard, See No Monkey wasn’t too sure about scheduling something with me because of all the recent responses to my firing (my apartment was broken into, my boss’s dog was attacked). Am I to understand that’s changed?
See No Monkey: I do see in my notes that you’ve had a bit of upheaval and I’m supposed to book you for after the holiday so you can make sure your travel documents are in order. But I don’t see anything about the offer being rescinded.
Eliza: Oh! Awesome! Thank you! I’m really shocked and grateful.
Eliza: Quick question before we get started—am I allowed to tell people that I’m flying out there in January to do some work with you?
Eliza: Is it something that’s public knowledge?
See No Monkey: it can be!
See No Monkey: We didn’t make any announcements because we wanted to protect your privacy as much as possible.
Eliza: Thank you. That’s very considerate. I’m sorry to be such a bother, it must be a little annoying having to deal with someone in my situation.
See No Monkey: It’s not a bother!
Eliza: Thank you. Do you mind if I publicly say that I’m going out for a contract period?
See No Monkey: Sure! We can put a post on our blog too. It would be a nice little coordinated announcement. I’ll loop in PR to double check/make a strategy.
Eliza: You don’t mind doing it so close to Christmas?
See No Monkey: Nope, not at all. We’re here.
Chapter Ninety-Nine
@BrightEliza: Really excited to say that I’m doing some work for @SeeNoMonkey in the New Year! #success #thankyou #raisetheshield
We wonder—is her computer good on location? Or will she inadvertently broadcast the data? It must be from her computer, her phone is long gone. We scour it. Should she have hashtagged it Gamergate? Is she out here to get a rise out of all of us? If so, hashtagging it Gamergate would be the most effective. But perhaps redundant; we’re all watching her anyway.
@SeeNoMonkey [verified]: We’re excited too! RT @BrightEliza: Really excited to say that I’m doing some work for @SeeNoMonkey in the New Year! #success #thankyou #raisetheshield
@SeeNoMonkey [verified]: Read more about our decision to offer @BrightEliza some contract work. Excite! bit.ly/739e-28
Notifications start pouring in. She scrolls through the rest of us: tepid, angry, a very few of us offering congratulations (why are those cucks still among us? Is their number growing?). She finds the one she was looking for.
@theinspectre: @SeeNoMonkey @BrightEliza no. I will not let this happen.
@SeeNoMonkey [verified]: good thing for all of us you don’t work here, @theinspectre! #byefelicia
We imagine Eliza, a cold look on her face. Is that—is it fear? Suffice it to say we think the expression on her face in this moment is fear. She is a scared little girl.
Chapter One Hundred
Why hasn’t he called?” Eliza asks and We are not sure why she wants The Inspectre to torture her—perhaps she is turning into a masochist? it is now hours later in the afternoon and We’ve been keeping an eye out to make sure nothing Explodes—waiting for The Inspectre to act and for Lewis to write back more than one line and We are ready with a Community Response Plan—the sun on the walls is orange and all that’s happened is Eliza has done laundry so it has been like watching the sand in an hourglass drip like liquid—Delightfully Boring with no outbursts and We Rejoice because We’ve chosen the correct Intervention
An hour until decorating!
Where the fuck has Suzanne been all day?
Eliza peels herself off the deep couch before We finish Our sentence and exits into the stairwell and she closes the door behind her because she doesn’t want to hear about how she’s been killing Suzanne—she feels bad enough already and she’s listened to Us all day and could use a little more time in places We are not and it’s a cool space and she’s not near done seeing all it has to offer
She begins to poke around the warehouse again—she is jittery and wants to run laps and she is not a person who is usually so-inclined but she still isn’t keen on leaving and as large as the warehouse is its many nooks and piles and obstacles do not make it ideal for running laps indoors—Yoga sounds Too Calm—she wants to punch something Over and Over and Over again and she wonders if We have a punching bag? We do not because We are split on the implications and We have bandied about arguments like Radical Self-Defense in our racist police-state and the glorification of violence for sport and Christ it’s Just Exercise people not everything has to MEAN something and but We have our Powerful Anger Circles to process Our Inherited Rage and We don’t need to enact capitalism as a Coping Mechanism—but even as We approach Punching-Bag-As-Theoretical-Philosophical-Practical object there is always something We agree on much easier than a punching bag and so we spend our Pooled Community Resource budget on the tub with jets and the bidet and the aerial rig and the candy thermometer and the new amplifier and the Guilds of the Protectorate shared account—Self-Care and Creativity and Luxurious Food and No We Do Not Have A Punching Bag
She winds up in the near-empty space with the computers and the Vive—its spaciousness is beautiful and elegant and with the fabric over the windows the early-setting winter sun diffuses in the room like a faint perfume—one Vive sits on the table—it’s not Eliza’s—she left hers in her apartment and she’d asked Devonte (when he was still speaking to them) not to bring it with the rest of her things because she never wanted to look at it again but things feel different now than they did and she doesn’t think anyone will mind if she futzes around with this one and in actual fact We are hoping she does because then maybe she will Contribute to the Feminist Unity Project after all—she puts the Vive on over her eyes and spends an hour drawing in 3D with a starry sky as her backdrop—something she hasn’t tried before but eventually the novelty wears off and she wants to hit something again
We Are Watching Eliza Bright Page 24