by Huss, JA
“I didn’t do anything. Yet. But… and I need you to listen to my whole explanation before you react, OK? Because you need to see the whole picture before you can fully understand it.”
“Stop fucking around and tell me what’s going on.”
“I have a secret.”
“No fucking shit.”
“She’s a girl.”
He laughs. “Why am I not surprised?”
“She’s not a princess, Valor. She’s not a Cygnian girl, she’s an Akeelian girl.”
He smiles at my revelation. Inhales deeply like he’s sucking in another round of patience because we’re brothers, and that’s what brothers do. And then he says, “Tray,” as he places a hand on my shoulder. “I know you don’t believe that. There’s no such thing as a female Akeelian. You know this. I know this. Everyone knows this. So what the actual fuck are you talking about?”
“Just listen to me. OK? This girl lives inside the Pleasure Prison. Or she did, before we left.” I’m unconsciously fingering the drive in my pocket. “She showed up in the Pleasure Prison just after I brought it online and she’s trapped in there. I’m going to get her out. So if—”
“Are you fucking insane? This is a joke, right? Please tell me this is a joke.”
“This is not a joke and I am not insane. She’s—”
“She’s not real,” he says. “That’s number one, Tray. She’s not real. And you are insane. Are you actually telling me that someone infiltrated the Harem Station virtual reality twenty fucking years ago and you didn’t say anything?”
“She didn’t infiltrate it, Valor, she—”
“She did!” he yells. “She absolutely did! What the hell are you thinking? You let a spy onto our station and now you’re carrying her around in your pocket?”
I finger the drive again. Because how did he know that?
“Do you think I’m stupid? Is that why you partnered up with me?”
“You picked me, asshole! I never asked you for help! You came to me!”
“Yeah,” he says, a growl building deep in his throat. “I did. And now I know… that was a mistake.”
“Listen to me. I need you to listen to me. I can get us out of here. Then we can save her, meet up with Booty and Asshole, then find Real ALCOR and Beauty and everything’s back on track.”
One hand comes at me, flattens on my chest. And he shoves me so hard I stumble backwards and crash into a tool cart. Things go flying, I almost lose my footing, and something cuts my suit because I hear the familiar sound of vac-plastic ripping.
“What the fuck, Valor?” I twist and check my suit for the tear I know is there. “What the fuck!”
“Where are we?” he growls. “Where is this place? What is this place? Why are we fucking here?”
“I need the sun-fucked ship! I told you that, and it was true. And it’s ready. We’re leaving, OK? We’re done. No time has passed outside, we’re fine. We’re not even late for the rendezvous yet.”
“Where. Are. We?” He says it slow. And mean. Like Valor is gonna beat the shit out of me if I don’t give him something. And fuck it. It’s not even a secret anymore. We’re here.
“This is Angel Station.”
He looks around, squints his eyes. “What? But that place is supposed to be—”
“It’s Angel Station, Valor. Take my word on that. I’m not one hundred percent sure of much these days, but I know where we are. No one knows where Angel Station is because no one’s been there.”
“Tray, Jimmy and Crux met with Angel Station. Hell, Serpint was ordering fucking fruit from them!”
“Lies,” I say. “Everyone wants to know where Angel Station is but no one does. Because it lives inside Luck’s spin node.”
“No one except you, apparently.”
“Me,” I admit. “And Crux. He knows what it is. But all the rest is just lies. That’s all. And when we get back to Harem you can even ask Crux. Even if you don’t trust me, you still trust Crux, right?”
“I thought I did. But I have to be honest. I’m reconsidering. Why didn’t you two fucking say something? Why all the goddamned secrets? Maybe I shouldn’t trust either of you?”
“Who were we supposed to tell? Baby? Succubus? Who the fuck should we have told?”
Valor opens his mouth to respond, but all he ends up doing is sucking in a very long breath of air.
“We’re in charge now, Valor. Us. Me. Crux. You guys. There’s no one else but us.”
“Asshole,” Valor says.
I nod, considering this, not for the first time. “Maybe. But he wasn’t there when Crux and I decided on the current plan. And then the Succubus came and there was no way to tell Asshole anything without her hearing.”
“Fine. We can figure that shit out later. But what does this have to do with this fucking girl?”
“She’s being held prisoner by Veila,” I say.
Valor huffs out a breath of contempt. “Veila sent her, you mean?”
“No. She’s not a fucking spy, OK? She’s just a girl.”
“There’s no such thing as an Akeelian girl, Tray. It’s not possible.”
“You don’t know that.” I laugh. “You don’t know anything. I’m the only one who knows things.”
Valor nods his head at me. “Is that right? Then why did you need Luck to open that secret spin node?”
“I had the code.”
“Yeah, you did. But you couldn’t open it. You needed Luck for that. And Luck needed Nyleena for that. So tell me again how you have all the answers, Tray.”
I don’t even pause, just say, “ALCOR told me everything—”
“ALCOR told you shit! ALCOR told you what he needed you to know, just like he told me what I needed to know. And you know what ALCOR’s secret message for me was? Tray?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer his rhetorical question. Just keeps going.
“He told me that Akeelian girls are always born dead. That’s why there are no Akeelian girls. That’s why we can’t back-breed the way the Cygnians do with their boys. There are no Akeelian girls, Tray. That’s why we need to get to Earth. So this girl you think you’re saving? She’s a fucking spy! She’s only here to get info out of you, and holy fucking suns”—he laughs—“she did that all right. You told her everything, didn’t you?”
“No!” I insist. “I didn’t tell her anything about Harem so even if what ALCOR told you is true, she doesn’t know anything. But it’s not true.” I say. “You know it’s not true. Jimmy came back and told us he has a sister. You heard him.”
“Jimmy is full of shit. Veila is full of shit. And you think I’m pining over that Veila bitch because she and I were genetically engineered mates? You’ve lost your goddamned mind! I want to kill her. I want to kill her with my bare fucking hands. I want to wrap my fingers around her neck and squeeze her till her eyes pop out. There’s no rush of lust inside me when I look at that hologram of Veila. There’s rage. And hate. And violence. I’m not going to fuck that bitch! I want to choke the life out of her and then cut her up into little pieces and scatter them in the galactic wind.”
He’s crossed the new distance between us and now he’s leaning down in my face as this venom spews out of his mouth, his eyes wide, the veins in his neck bulging with his too-fast heartbeat.
“That’s why I’m here, brother. I’m not here to save ALCOR. Or Beauty. If we can get that done, cool. Great. I’ll be happy. But that’s not my mission. Veila is my mission and you’re just a means to an end for me, just like I am for you. So I’m fixing up my own fucking ship, then I’m gonna make my own fucking fuel pellets, then I’m gonna use those coordinates you found and fly my way out of this spin node. And then…” His eyes glow bright neon violet. “And then I’m gonna hunt that bitch down and do it exactly how I planned.”
CHAPTER SIX - BRIGIT
I want to try out my rude hypothesis. And I do. Kind of. But it’s hard for me to be rude when people are all so pleasant. And they don’t react when I do
n’t reply to their ‘thank you’ with a ‘you’re welcome’. I can practically hear the cha-ching! sound in their heads as they rack up another credit for not reacting to me.
But I give it a go. Because today feels like the last day I can stand this life. Today feels like a day where I might be up for anything, just as long as it breaks the monotony of my existence.
So this guy, Hester, he comes in every day for lunch. Every freaking day. At exactly one twenty-three PM I know that Hester will be walking through that door. He will order a protein wrap. But he’ll order it like this: “I’d like a protein wrap on sweet bread. Make sure it’s sweet bread. I really like the sweet bread.”
Every day. Every time.
It’s like… Hello? It’s me, Brigit. I make your fucking protein wrap every day. I know you like it on sweet bread. You don’t need to tell me.
But I’ve told him that a couple dozen times now and he’s always shocked that I know his name.
I mean… I ask him for his name every day. I write it on the damn wrapper. I call out, “Hester. Protein wrap on sweet bread.” Every time. Same way.
Still, he’s always shocked.
Not one of the smarter stock characters in here, that’s for sure.
This is what I hate most about this place. The people aren’t real. Nothing is real. I’m not real. What is the point of it all?
I know what Tray would say. Because every once in a while I go through these… moods, I guess. He’d say, “It’s just an interlude, Brigit. I know it’s frustrating and boring and that from your perspective, this prison sentence seems never-ending. But there is an end. There is a goal. And if you can just hang with me as I set everything up, I promise you will be happy when it’s over.”
So I’ve been patient with Tray and the world he made for me.
But I think today is the day. Today is the day when I cannot take one more moment of sameness from Hester.
He’s not the only one who does that either. He’s just the most precise as far as rules of engagement go.
And yesterday I told myself that if I have to hear him order that way one more time I’m gonna slap him. So for real… I’ve reached my tipping point.
Something has to change.
I don’t even care what it is.
At one twenty-three PM here he comes. He waits his turn in line while I side-eye him looking up at the menu. Why does he read it when he orders the same thing every day?
He’s not real, Brigit. He’s a program running inside a virtual reality.
Right. So he’s not gonna care when he spits those words out like they are brand-shiny new and I slap him across the face.
Which I do. Red mark on the cheek and everything.
For a moment I think… OK. No reaction. Not wholly unexpected.
But then he reaches out, grabs my hair, pulls me across the counter, and shoves me to the floor.
I look up at him, utterly stunned. “What the fuck?”
Then he gazes up at the menu and says, “I’d like a protein wrap on sweet bread. Make sure it’s sweet bread. I really like the sweet bread.”
I look around, still stunned, because I was not expecting that. And my heart is beating fast, and my scalp is tingling from the hair pull, and my knees are bruised from the floor, and… holy fucking shit!
It worked!
Sort of.
Now he’s just mumbling his order on repeat. Like he’s got a glitch.
I don’t know what to do, so I side-eye the people around us to gauge their reaction. They either truly can’t see what just happened the way most of them can’t see Tray, or they’re getting credits handed to them for ignoring it.
But then a man pushes his way through the crowd of people near the front and offers me his hand. “Wow. That guy has issues. Would you like me to report him for you? I saw the whole thing.”
And hellooooo there, Mr. New Guy. Who might you be? I take his hand and he pulls me up off the floor. “Thanks,” I say, smoothing my apron and anxiously adjusting my hair. “But I did slap him first.”
New guy laughs. “Yeah. Saw that too. But if you want me to lie, I will. His reaction was over the top.”
I stare into his bright violet eyes. Eyes that remind me so much of Tray’s that for a moment I get a little lost. And then a little confused. Because everything about him kind of reminds me of Tray.
They are about the same height, but this guy’s hair is lighter. They have a similar face, as well. Probably about the same age, not that age really has meaning in this place. But they look like they could be related.
But unlike Tray, this guy has an easy-going grin on his face and a smile that feels welcoming. Tray is patient, but deliberative to such a point that he often appears dark. I don’t find him anti-social, and I’m pretty sure no one in this place has the depth of character to call him that either. But… he is kind of anti-social.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Who are you?”
“New here today.” He smiles. “I’m Draden.”
“Draden,” I say. “Right. I hear you’re having a party tonight.”
“Word gets around fast.” He chuckles. “You’re coming though, right?”
“Mmmm.” I press my lips together. “No. Sorry. I’m… I’ve… well, just… no.” I don’t care how cute and new he is, I’m done with the stupid parties.
“Well, that’s too bad,” Draden says. “I was really counting on you being there.”
“Me?” I ask. “Not me personally.”
He leans in and only now that I realize he’s still got a hold of my hand. Because he squeezes it. Juuuust a little bit too hard. “Yes, Brigit. You. Personally.”
“What?”
“I think you should reconsider.” He says it nice enough. It’s amicable. But underneath there’s a hint of something else. Something… dangerous.
“So… see ya then,” he says.
And a moment later he’s pushed his way back through the crowd and disappears.
I look around, uncertain of what to do. Uncertain of how to feel.
Uncertain about everything.
And then I smile.
Because I love it.
Aieena shows up right as my shift ends. No one replaces me when I leave. In fact, this café isn’t even open unless I’m working here. It’s like it only exists for me.
Which, OK. Fine. I am living in a virtual reality so it kind of makes sense.
But it’s creepy.
Who is running this thing? Tray? Does he watch me? Does anyone watch me? Is there some all-powerful AI monitoring everything? And if so, is that thing considered… God?
My brain hurts when I think too hard about it. And there is enough going on today that pondering the existence of an artificial God is unwarranted.
“Did you change your mind?” Aieena asks.
I’m wiping down the counters and mentally locking up the café’s virtual currency counter when she says this.
“Yes,” I answer. “That Draden guy came in here earlier and personally invited me.”
“Really?” Aieena brightens.
I’ve been weighing the pros and cons of telling Aieena about the confrontation earlier. I’m not sure it’s necessary because, while she’s far more real than that Hester guy, the fact remains, she’s still fake.
We’re all still fake.
So I’m not sure it’s worth the effort when she’s just going to parrot back some pre-scripted answer pulled from her… database. Or whatever.
But fuck it. This is opposite day. So I say, “Something weird happened earlier.”
She squints her eyes at me. “Weird how?”
“Well, there’s this guy…” I tell her about Hester. She doesn’t know him. But I explain the way he acts and she crinkles her face up.
“Hmmm. That’s… strange, right?”
I tilt my head at her. “Yes. It’s definitely strange. And I’m just so sick of it.”
“Well, I would be too. What kind of idiot is he? I mean, is he sick
?”
Again, this is unexpected. Because all this time I’ve been under the assumption that Aieena has been programmed to ‘miss things’. Plus… sick? Who gets sick in a virtual?
And then her question from earlier about Tray pops into my head.
Where is he?
First time for that too.
“Ummm… not sure if he’s sick,” I say. “But whatever. I was just irritated earlier. And yesterday I told myself I was going to slap him if he did it again.”
Aieena covers her mouth with her hand. “You didn’t.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “I did.”
“Oh, my God, Brigit!” She’s shaking her head at me.
“I know! But… I’m tired of it. I’m tired of all of it!”
“How did he respond?”
“He grabbed my hair, pulled me across the counter, and threw me to the ground!”
“What?” She’s visibly shocked.
“Yeah.” And then I smile.
“Are you OK?” She looks me up and down. “Did you call security?”
“Security?”
“Yeah. Did you report him? That’s… not normal behavior.”
And then I remember that’s what that Draden guy said too. Do you want me to report him?
“Who exactly would I report him to?”
“Security!” Aieena says.
“But there is no security,” I say. I know this for a fact. There has never been a need for security. No one breaks laws—come to think of it, I’m not sure there are laws. People just… know the rules and seem to follow them. And no one’s ever tried to hurt me before. I didn’t think they could. Because even though it’s a very strange thought, there’s no denying that I am actually the most powerful ‘person’ in this virtual. I really do think I’m the bank. I might even be the artificial God running things.
“What are you talking about, Brigit? Are you OK? I’m starting to get worried about you. The security station is right next door.”
“What?”
Aieena gets even more concerned. “Maybe he was sick. And maybe you’re sick too. Do you have a temperature?”
“A temp—”
“Stop repeating me,” Aieena objects. “You’re acting like him! You’re acting like a robot.”