I pumped the brakes, slowing at the bottom of the hill and pulling over onto the shoulder.

I put the truck in park and turned to Oscar. We were both braced, ready for anything. Even though we already knew what it was.

I held up three fingers. Then two. Then one.

We both reached into the backseat and whipped the blanket off the seat.

Jackie jerked upright, dark hair flying. The back of her head was messy and chaotic, with frayed, frizzy hairs pointing in every direction.

“Must have, uh, dozed off.” Jackie said.

“In the back of my truck?” I said.

“Yeah, honest mistake.”

I glanced past her, at the little window above the backseat. I knew from experience that it could be jimmied open from the outside. Not that it had ever worried me. Only someone with a frame like Jackie’s—as well as her adventurous, indomitable spirit, if you wanted to call it that—could squeeze through that thing.

Mystery solved.

Oscar had completely turned and was leaning over into the backseat. “Don’t change the subject. Jackie, we talked about this. You can’t just insert yourself.”

“But you guys are always doing fun stuff!” Jackie said. “C’mon. We’re moving any day, now. And I barely ever get to hang out with you guys.”

“Good idea,” Oscar said, though his tone didn’t seem to say so. “We should do that soon. But not tonight.”

Jackie crossed her arms. “Why not?”

“Because.” Oscar said. “You snuck into Kit’s truck.” Then, in a more playful tone. “You’re a sneaker.”

“Man’s got a point,” I said. “We do have a policy against stowaways.”

Jackie took a deep, long breath. She was recuperating, assessing her options.

Oh, shit. As cocky as Oscar and I were with her, it was easy to forget how resourceful she could be. We only ever seemed to remember when it was already too late.

I gave Oscar an uneasy look. The same kind of look he was already giving me.

“Fine, then.” Jackie said. “Just turn around and take me back. Although, I did hear you guys say you were already late. What was it you were going to do?”

“We don’t have to tell you.” Oscar said, but his face said he could already see the tower beginning to fall. He didn’t even know how yet—neither did I—but he could see it coming. Jackie was like a little demolitions expert. Sometimes it seemed like she enjoyed finding our sources of fun and blasting them into tiny, pixelated bits.

In the early days, she got us banned from playing Resident Evil because she walked in on us and the game freaked her out. This all despite the fact that Oscar had locked his door. Jackie had worked it open with the help of a Youtube tutorial and one of her bobby pins. How fair is that supposed to be.

“Whatever.” Jackie said. “Take me back. One other question, though: what exactly is a ‘cloudbox’?”

This was a thinly veiled threat. As soon as she got home, she would go to her parents. “What’s a cloudbox? Oh, well, that’s what Oscar and Kit are using whenever they go into town. They won’t explain what it is, I just overheard them talking about it—”

Crap on toast, I thought. They’ll think we’re doing drugs.

Any attempt to explain cover it up would fall on deaf ears. Oscar and I could lie, we could deflect, we could photoshop an arcade game with the logo Cloudbox, and none of it would matter. They would sniff the whole story. If not that, they would ground Oscar. The last few weeks of his time here(if that) would be spent under constant parental surveillance.

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“Jackie,” Oscar said, “I say this as your thoughtful, caring brother. You are an awful human being.”

Jackie’s eyes lit up with an afterburn of defiance. “What’s the cloudbox, Oscar? What is it you guys are actually doing when you run off together almost every night?” She looked Oscar to me, then back again. “Anyone? Bueller?”

I put a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Can we talk for a sec?”

I pointed a finger at Jackie. “Stay right here, please.”

There was a brisk breeze out, rattling the yellow leaves in the aspens overhead. The truck doors thunked loudly in the night.

I waved Oscar over and across the ditch, putting some distance between us and the truck. Jackie had ears like a fox, when she wanted to.

Our boots crunched on sticks and fallen leaves. I spun and faced Oscar, who was folding his arms in the chill.

“When do your parents go to bed?”

“Usually early. They might be in bed, right now.”

“Well, they haven’t called you yet, so that’s a pretty good indication that they haven’t noticed she’s gone, at the very least, right?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said. “So?”

I breathed in. “I think we should take her with us.”

“What?” Oscar said. “No! Kit—”

“What.” I said. “Why not? He’ll let her try it out. He doesn’t charge for the first time.”

“Yeah, because ‘first one’s always free’ is never a bad sign.” Oscar said. “You think this thing is regulated or approved? With all the secrecy, and the forms?”

“It’s a prototype.” I said. “They need people to test it. Jackie,” I gestured toward the truck. “Could be one of those people. I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”

“We don’t know what it is.” Oscar said. “We’d be exposing my sister to something we don’t even understand.”

“So it was fine when it was just me getting involved?” I said.

Oscar ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s a little different, isn’t it? We didn’t even know what it was, before. And now that we do...I mean, think about it. There’s always a trade-off. Look at cigarettes. Look at alcohol.”

I stepped toward him, the soles of my boots scraping on rocks and dirt. “Why?” I said. “Have you been experiencing anything? Any...side effects?”

Oscar shook his head. “No. I mean, not yet. Have you?”

“No.” I lied. It was probably nothing, anyway. Just, you know, migraines. Everyone gets migraines.

Migraines that go away once you synchronize, and don’t come back until you’ve been away from Rithium for a few days?

Shut up.

“So what are you worried about?” I said. “She’ll love it. She’s a gamer just as much as we are. And this...this is the best game that’s ever existed. Think about how we would have killed for something like this. But if we take Jackie back, she spills everything. And we’ll lose out on...an entire world.”

“It’s just a game.”

“Are you kidding me!?” I said, offended. “We have a life in there!”

“It’s talk like that,” Oscar said, waving a finger at me, “That’s got you scaring me.”

Suddenly, Oscar’s weird speech during the drive was starting to make sense. Even though it didn’t actually make sense. It was like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place, giving context to the image it portrayed. The image of Oscar and I’s relationship with Rithium.

“How long have you felt like this?” I said.

“Like this Simworld thing has become an obsession for you?” Oscar said. “Like it’s become unhealthy? A long time, Kit. I mean, where did you even get the money for tonight?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I said, waving off the change of subject. “Why keep going along?”

Light from the headlights of a passing car flickered amongst the trees.

Oscar, who’d been shifting his weight from foot to foot, suddenly froze. His eyes glistened.

“So I could be there for you. Like I always wish I could be.”

Oh.

There’s this cliche that guys (men, whatever) don’t know how to communicate their emotions. I don’t think that’s true. We do communicate, but it’s in a sort of code. We layer our feelings in a veneer of generic comradery. It’s safer that way. Not to mention considerate.

Oscar wasn’t doing any of that. Especially now. It was all out in the open. A pulsing heart on the outside of his chest. He was vulnerable and exposed.

“Oscar.” I said, pleading. “We’re running out of time.”

“If you’re counting in Rithium time.” Oscar said. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Okay,” I said. “How about this. We ask Jackie what she thinks.”

“We already know what she would think. You know how she is. If we did it, she’ll want to do it, too.”

“Exactly. And she’s gonna find out. Whether it’s tonight or two years from now. It’s going to market eventually. And she’ll want to try it.”

Oscar seemed doubtful.

“Look.” I reached out, grabbing Oscar by the shoulders. “Nothing bad is going to happen. To me, or anyone.”

Oscar held his gaze with mine. “Promise?”

I nodded. “I do.”

Just then—as if on cue—a flash of pain streaked the inside of my skull.

I winced, running a hand into my hair, pulling.

“What’s wrong?” Oscar said, leaning close. He seemed scared, alarmed.

“Nothing.” I said. The bulk of the pain began to subside, ebbing in the background. “It’s-it’s nothing.”