Bryn
Something’s pinging incessantly in my ear. What time is it? I roll onto my stomach and heave my fluffy doona over my head to shut out the room’s automatic light. The pinging’s getting louder.
Hello? I answer, pressing my face into the mattress and almost dislodge my modes. I’d fallen asleep wearing them again. Why do I have such a headache?
Hi Bryn, it’s Lenora Rey, a bubbly voice sing-songs into my head like an electric drill. Wait, Lenora Rey? The Lenora Rey? I launch upright, taking a seat on the edge of my bed, hands clasped in front of me as I confirm it’s indeed Miss Lenora Rey.
Of course! To what do I owe the pleasure? I ask. Thankfully it’s audio only because my hair’s like a clean-bot nest, and I reckon I’ve slept on a bolt again because my cheek feels sore.
I was hoping you could help me, she says in a soft, kind voice. I get the impression she’s both embarrassed as well as hopeful. I’m working on a new project and I need to ask your brother some questions.
It takes me a moment to pick apart her request. What does she mean by brother? Disappointment settles heavily in my chest. My rank’s made a sudden dive during the night for some unknown reason, and this could’ve been the chance I needed to build it up again. A message pops up, a reminder I left myself. Don’t forget… Don’t forget what? Geez, past me, way to be helpful. I blink the words away.
Bryn? she asks.
I think you’ve got the wrong person.
I’m certain I have the right one, she insists. Bryn Morgan, Level Five, mothers Bethanie and Rhia, current rank 81,511.
I wince at the reminder and tamp down my feelings of annoyance and frustration.
Yes, but I don’t have a brother, and I feel empty for saying it. I wish I did have a brother, then maybe things would be easier. I’m sorry. I wish I could help.
Oh. Well thanks for your time, she says and the link closes. Well, that’s perhaps one of the oddest conversations I’ve ever had and it’s not even eight yet!
After a quick dry-shower that leaves my skin tacky, I bring up my stats in an effort to pinpoint what I’ve done to send my rank plummeting. Where was I at 19:31 last night? What could’ve attributed to a 10,000 point drop in rank? I check for messages and there’s only one from Teo, No need to worry, found someone else to help me.
“Glitch!” I face-palm as I remember my promise to help him with that internship. I call him, but it must still be too early because he doesn’t answer. Or maybe he’s angry with me. His profile doesn’t mention his current mood, but a little apology wouldn’t go astray. Then I’ll work on my rank. My credits look like they’ve taken a hit last night too.
Harper isn’t awake yet either, but I ping him anyway. Want to catch up for a quest? It thrills me to think he’ll hear my voice as soon as he wakes up.
I dress quickly, but my boots are hiding and it takes a while to discover one under the bed and the other on my desk. How tired was I last night? Slumping into my chair to tug them on, I notice a strange black box sitting right in the middle of the desk. It won’t open, despite having a go at it with a knife from the kitchen. It’s probably been left by the clean-bots for whatever reason. Or it could be a mite trap. The thought gives me skin-bumps and I stash the box under my desk and rub more dry gel into my hands until I feel clean again.
I head towards my door and kick something, sending it skittering across the floor and bouncing off the far wall. It rolls for a bit until I finally catch it. It’s my green marble. Teo would love it, and maybe he’ll forgive me for not helping him last night.
Teo lives in Applegrove. Its streets are lined with apple trees, some covered in pink and white blossoms, some heavy with glossy red fruit and bright green, toothed leaves, and others are a wintry bare. The trees cycle through the seasons willy-nilly and the one out the front of Teo’s place is malfunctioning: fruiting, blossoming and losing its leaves at the same time.
Taking the stairs up to Teo’s two at a time, I greet the house cheerily with, “is Teo up yet?”
“Good morning, Bryn. Matteo is not here at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”
“It’s okay, I’ll send him one myself. Thanks!” Back down the steps I pause, hands deep in my pockets. The green marble is heavy and I squeeze it, pondering my next move. After a few unanswered pings to Harper, Teo and even Chevette, I decide to head over to Harper’s place. He’ll know where Teo is. He’d gotten a graphic design apprenticeship, and usually has mornings off.
Half way to Harper’s, Teo finally answers one of my calls.
Hey, Bryn. His voice seems flatter than usual.
Teo! Sorry about not getting back to you. Last night was pretty full on and confusing and hazy, but I don’t add that. Did you end up sorting your internship application?
Yeah, Harper helped me.
Well, that’s good. So what are you up to today? I was thinking we could do a quest together? It’s been almost a week since I saw you last.
Umm, sure.
Fizzing! How does Quest Realm at nine sound? So far I’ve won enough prize credits in the fantasy role-playing game to keep playing. Another good win was just what I need to improve my savings. When we were all first Activated, the four of us had spent more time in Quest Realm than in the real, but recently it’s been mostly just me. It’ll be nice to have the crew questing together again.
Okay, we can manage that, Teo says.
I haven’t heard from Harper, I ask before he disconnects. Do you know where he is? He should come too!
He’s with me. I’ll let him know.
Alright, I’ll see you guys in Quest Realm! I head towards the nearest VHS hire with a skip in my step. A quick wrist check and I’ve enough for forty actual minutes in the Cyberinth without too much worry. The rest I’ll have to save until I’ve won more quests. The sense of safety I’ve had since Activation now seems like smoke – as if I’m grasping for something that should be there but isn’t.
I login to Quest Realm a minute early, contemplate waiting on one of the benches ringing the login platform before meandering over to the mission board to see what’s available. Something short and sweet, but will get the heart pumping. A fairly valuable search and recovery quest set in a lake not far would do the trick. I tap the poster and the mission automatically enters my profile. Now to wait for Harper and Teo. Maybe I should’ve messaged Chevette, too? Nah, she’s probably working. Her shifts as a junior nurse are all over the place. I’m not sure when we all hung out together last.
I watch other avatars adjust armour and weapons, envious of their high quality gear. My avatar’s pretty basic, though at least it looks like me. My outfit is still the standard black slacks and black pullover, basic leather armour protecting the pulse points, but my hair glints with all the artificial trinkets in my hair. I think I look trendy, and someone told me black is coming back. I can’t remember who, though. Maybe my hard drive’s due a defrag. My sword is a beauty though. Lightweight, it truly sang through the air, and its blade glowed as if made of sunlight.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
After 9:30 has truly come and gone, I call Teo. Then, after no luck, Harper. He answers, looking relaxed in his green button-up and bow tie that hangs loose around his neck. In the background I can make out a neon pink sign saying Bev’s Diner in cursive and a bustling dance floor.
Hey, Brynnie. He sounds distracted. Sorry, but we’re not going to make it. Teo won the internship so I thought I’d treat him.
That’s fizzing! I say and now I feel even worse for bailing on Teo last night. Clearly he isn’t talking to me at the moment. Tell him I’m super pleased for him!
I will. We should catch up another time, though.
Okay, maybe tomorrow? I offer, tucking a braid behind my ear and smiling brightly. He once said he liked my smile. Thankfully my avatar isn’t too good at showing complex emotions and its smile doesn’t contain any of the confusion, disappointment and hurt swirling around my real stomach like toxic sludge.
Yeah, we’ll see. I’ll call you later, okay? He waves cheerily and I manage a I’ll look forward to it, before he logs off. I’ve never felt so disconnected in my entire life.
All through school our crew had been the tightest. Harper and I met first. Our cots had been next to each other and we’d shared the same class-mother. Then Teo had been my assigned buddy, so the three of us became inseparable. Chevette had bulldozed her way in about six months later, when we all had the same few classes. We hadn’t minded. When we were kids, that stuff didn’t matter. We all shared our first memories together, outgrew our Imaginary Friends together, and even got our credit chips fitted together.
But something’s changed since Activation.
Sitting up from the rented VHS, I swipe my wrist to pay for the fifty minutes and the belt unlocks, releasing me from the unit. Once out, it vibrates and a fine antibacterial mist coats it, making the plastic seat shiny. Before it’s even dried, a middle-aged man with mustard yellow modes and a waist narrower than mine shoves past and heaves himself into the VHS. The VHS armrests shuddered as his actual size pushes against them and it dips a few inches. He frowns at me and I duck my head, my cheeks hot, and hurry out into the waiting room.
I miss my old school coffin.
It’d been cosy and safe. I decorated its walls with pictures and short clips of my crew so they were always there, even when we had different classes. Now it’s impossible to be on the same level as them.
I end up at my old school, desiring the familiarity of its paths and hallways. I can’t go back to my old coffin, it’s now someone else’s, but the lunch quadrant is a public space. I pick out a sunny spot beneath the tree that’d once been our tree and settle on the faux grass, soft as fur, letting it tickle my cheeks as I close my eyes. I set my modes to be undisturbed, unless it’s Harper or Teo, and I become as invisible as I ever could.
“Bryn?” A voice wakes me from a light doze and I lift my face, not needing to blink as my modes instantly adjust to the increased light. It’s a boy my age, familiar, which isn’t odd as I’ve probably passed him at school.
I stand upright, dust off my knees, and take a few steps back, eyeing him carefully. Lanky body, messy brown shoulder length hair, his modes a size too small and though he may’ve towered over me, he’s slouching so much he’s barely my height. His back is hunched in his hoodie as if something’s trying to burst out of his spine, expanding his flesh like putty. Everything he wears is black, making him a dark smudge against the street behind him.
“It’s two thirty,” the boy says. A moment passes.
“And …?” I wonder if he’s lost. He doesn’t look like he belongs on Level Five or even Six, really. I search for his profile and I’m right. Greyson Ward, rank low enough to hurt my rank just by looking at him.
“We’re to meet at two.” He runs a hand through his hair and shuffles his feet.
“We were?”
“About your brother?”
I pause. “I don’t have a brother.”
“Glitch. You too, then.”
“Look, you’ve got the wrong person.”
“We met yesterday. You needed my help.” He fans his hands out, pleading.
“Look, I’ve never meet you in the real before.”
The boy shrugs awkwardly, tense as if planning to flee at any moment.
“You got the black box?” he asks instead.
So the mysterious black box on my desk isn’t a mite trap. How does he know about it?
“It’s in my room,” I say warily. “It won’t open.”
“The key’s in your hair.” He gestures to a metal piece. I finger the ornament’s grooves, trying to recall exactly where I found it. “Inside the box’s a notebook and data chip.”
I look up what a notebook is in my database: an old-fashioned information storage device, inefficient and damage prone. Seems a bit useless.
“What’s on the chip?” I ask.
“Your brother’s memories. Here.” He lifts a hand behind his head. “Zip saved some.”
A metal head rears out of his hood and I yelp, tripping over my feet to get away, landing hard on the grass. The boy jerks back with a grunt, hands up as if I’m the one attacking him.
“It’s fine! She’s Zipper. You met her, too.” He steps forward, crouching so his robot can slither down his shoulder and sit in front of him. It’s a strange thing, fashioned after an Old Earth cat and it appears as if it’s made of second-hand parts.
“Why can’t I remember?” I ask.
“It’s your chip. Modes can rewrite your programming.” The boy taps a finger against his lip as he speaks. “Your memory was actively fighting the erasure when you were thinking about your brother. Soon as you coma-fied, they overwrote them, even all of last night with me, and you forgot, see.” His words are odd; he puts emphasis on the wrong syllables, and there’s a harsh, clipped nature to his vowels – unsurprising since he must be a Bottom Dweller. Sometimes it seems Bottom Dwellers speak a whole other language.
“So, how do you remember him?”
“I don’t, I remember you. And the empty room in your unit.”
“What empty room?”
“Your brother’s room. It’s sealed,” he hesitates before continuing. “You know something’s off.” He’s right. I’ve had this feeling all day that something’s irrevocably changed. “I’ll fair prove it, yeah.”
His robot makes an inquisitive mew and cocks its head. Its eyes are different colours and it’s pretty scuffed up, but it’s kind of cute.
“Okay,” I murmur. “What do I do?”
“She’ll give you a memory. Not sure what, though, okay?”
It’s not okay. None of this is. But I want to prove this is all a mistake, even if I risk downloading malicious programs. It’s too elaborate to be a scam, surely!
The robot, Zipper, slinks towards me and I sit still, clenching the grass in my hands, until it’s close enough for its tail to arch up over its back and into my modes, making a soft clicking sound as it docks.
Bee’s run off ahead and Mum’s going to kill me if she gets home before I do. I stuff my hands into my jacket pockets and sigh. If she gets to the fridge first then there’s no way she’ll save me any of that sweet-bean food pod. I call out for her to wait for me and I spot a head of braids duck beneath Mr Lee’s table, covered to groaning with all kinds of bottles and containers, some glass and tin, but mostly metal, with one in particular I’m saving up for. Maybe another month, no six weeks, should be good enough, and it’s lockable to keep Bee out of my stuff. Mr Lee lifts one pencil-thin brow in amusement as I tiptoe closer, the man puffing away at his pipe with steady, slow huffs and the vapour smells like honey. Bee giggles and the tablecloth sways. I greet Mr Lee loudly and he bellows in a voice far too big for his scrawny, wrinkled old body, and there’s more giggles from beneath the table. I wail how my little sister has disappeared, and if I don’t find her my mothers will have my ears! One each! And Bryn’s giggling gets louder. I duck under the table quickly, scooping the wiggling, laughing ball of Bee out in one sweep. She’s getting heavier. Her baby teeth bright white as she slings her chubby arms around my neck, lisping my name on purpose. Her modes have been knocked sideways, built into a cap that ties around her chin to keep it on, but she doesn’t seem too bothered even though she can probably only see out of one eye. I set her on her feet as Mr Lee amuses her by blowing vapour out of his nose and I adjust her cap then tug down a pant leg that’s ridden up. It’s always the left one, never the right. I tell her it’s time to head home and I know she must be hungry and grasp her hand firmly so she can’t do another runner. She claims she could eat a whole flesh-heifer and her free arm swings wide to show the size, then she covers her mouth and snickers. I say a whole flesh-heifer couldn’t fit and prompt her to say goodbye to Mr Lee. She offers the shopkeeper a cheerful, enthusiastic wave that threatens to dislodge her cap again. I call my own farewells and then Bee’s tugging me towards home, chattering a mile a minute. I reckon she could talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles, but I don’t mind. We pass Martha and Mollie, who sometimes babysit us, on their way to the Core, and Martha gives Bryn a pale blue button to add to her collection. I swear she was collecting seeds last week, but she mainly ended up with a lot of pebbles. It kept her busy, putting them in rows, ordering them from biggest to smallest, then making up stories about what kinds of things lived inside. Bee says she’s trying to collect buttons of every colour, though she mainly has white ones. I call her Bumble Bee and she buzzes until I distract her with promises of a snack at home and spot our unit ahead. She does too, dragging at my arm impatiently. Bee crows about eating a flesh-heifer bun and makes a strange moaning sound so she’s clearly learning about agriculture at school. I promise her whatever it is, it’ll be delicious.
Zipper disconnects and the memory ends.
“Okay, Bryn?” the boy asks, still crouched in front of me.
“I’ve a brother.” I wait. Nothing. The word’s just a word.
----------------------------------------