CHAPTER 5

“Were you coming or going buddy?” He asked, looking down at the skeletal remains.

“Did you fall coming down,” he said, sweeping down both hands from high, ”or did you fall going up?” finishing with an upward motion. Kopius brought both arms down in frustration and started to pace. Keeping an eye on the ladder he tried to formulate a plan that didn’t involve him getting picked over by whatever the next creature was that wandered down here. The thought of being picked over meant that he would have died.

Death might set things straight, Kopius thought to himself. He considered that dying could lead to a respawn. Respawning might jar the game into allowing functionality of his user interface. A functional interface meant a logout, a logout meant an exit and then a sternly worded v-mail to whichever person, company or entity that could cause such a cataclysmic failure.

Not allowing himself to go completely off the rails, envisioning his inner Karen wreaking havoc on an undervalued and underpaid manager, Kopius returned to the possible benefits of dying.

“I die, I respawn and can logout.” Kopius said aloud. “I die, I respawn, I can’t logout,” he weighed.

Would I go back to the room of mirrors?... Wouldn’t matter if I can logout... Might matter if you can’t logout. Why would that matter, we’d still be stuck! Yes, but we have already cleared this cave. You don’t know whether that thing will respawn too! We know where it will be if it does!

“Fair enough!” Kopius exclaimed, ending his inner debate before it came down to blows. The idea of dying to respawn and then hopefully logout had merits. Cory, having had an old tech job, knew how restarting a faulty program or machine could resolve an issue. “Have you turned it off and on again?” is a very important question! Yet that “it” was attached or otherwise influencing his brain.

“Ok Grandpa,” Kopius said,”Whatcha got for me?” He began to pace again, muttering to himself, ”What do we know? What don’t we know” on repeat. The pacing helped Kopius to keep his mind on track. Wishing he didn’t have to turn so often he kept this up until he started listing off items, counting on his hands.

“I am alive,” Kopius paused mid step. “I’m...alive, right?”

Sometimes Cory would have to start with the most basic of ‘what do we know’ answers. He had actually had to refer back to this ‘I am alive’ statement to jump start the process quite often; it was motivating to get the first few answers correct. This was usually followed by ‘I am breathing’ and other obvious ‘I know’s’ until the momentum could be directed to the problem at hand.

There were time’s Cory would giggle that he would have to confirm that he was alive. Kopius, using it for the first time, felt a chill stretch through his body and squeeze his heart.

“I have to be!” Kopius blurted out to the cave. “I’m right here!” he yelled. Kopius started to pace as if his thumping heart just needed to walk it out. When all manner of breathing techniques did not calm his nerves, he dropped against a large boulder, defeat washing over him. “I’m breathing,” he sputtered looking down at his open palms. “I feel…” and he broke.

Years of avoided conflicts and internal strife were waiting on the other side of the dam Kopius had just broken wide open. He was not prepared. Tears that he would normally fight off or push back first fell on his palm and then patted on the floor of the cave. It wasn’t the cave, or the ladder or even the fact that he was stuck in a game. Long ago, well before he knew it, Cory had given up. Not on life but on living.

At some point Cory’s hubris collided with his naivety and the dust storm that erupted engulfed him. By the time that Cory could see the mess he had created, maintaining the status quo was the easiest way forward. Forward he went. Odd jobs and odd women kept his life interesting but at the end of the day, he was empty.

“The easy way.” Kopius laughed admonishingly, rocking back to sit. “More like the ‘let everyone down’ way,” he managed to get out between the sniffling. He let the tears flow as he picked up small pebbles; flicking them away. Self-doubt needn't knock on an open door and Kopius was throwing a party. He rocked, internally mulling at himself for every misstep and mistake that he could remember. His wasted potential or every teacher’s ‘if you just applied yourself’ conversation. His parents hoped for better times while he consistently gave them reasons to believe otherwise. Ruining his one joy of coaching baseball because of a run in with the law. Just a spiral of over ambitious, poorly thought through schemes and ventures.

These breakdowns would happen from time to time in the real world. Some innocuous question would catch him off guard and he would be hit with the emotional equivalent of a surprise slap ‘cup check’. Generally, after some time, the feelings would abate and he would push on, learning nothing from it. As he got older, the peace of mind he craved too often fell victim to the shortcomings of his past. Overthinking and under planning became common pitfalls in an already clouded world. It wasn’t for lack of trying. From time to time he would make blind attempts at positivity, like ‘if the hole was big enough, why not decorate?’ or ‘Deeper hole equals more head room!’ Positive spins on negatives were his jam. It was a comedy reel in his head that kept reality at bay.

With further impending doom awaiting his mental horizon, Kopius had come to a crossroad. He could continue to wallow in his own contrived, self-fulfilling, self-loathing prophecies or accept that mistakes are made and meant to be learned from. To his credit, he rarely made the same mistake twice.

Life lessons aside, Kopius started the arduous process of pulling himself out of his muck. After wiping away the residual tears and snot, Kopius took a few deep breaths closing his eyes to ensure he had, indeed, backed away from that ledge. A blank window appeared even with his eyes closed. He shut it.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Coming back in the direction of normal, Kopius gazed at the small exit in the high ceiling of the cave.

“Twenty-one days,” he said aloud, thinking of his VR unit. Cory’s O.B.S.E. rig in the real world was modest to say the least. It could only run for twenty-one days until it needed to be refilled with the necessary liquified nutrients and vitamins required to sustain long term activity in the VR realms. Commonly referred to as ‘day-zero’ or the day you are OOI, out of inventory. Prolonged immersion also called for a sanitisation change and/or cleaning. At the day-zero mark, with no refills, the system goes into hibernation, setting off any and every alarm associated with your logged in user. On day twenty-two the authorities are informed and an extraction ambulance is dispatched. If by day twenty-five you haven't been reached, logged out or otherwise extracted; well, at least they tried.

Twenty days to be safe, he corrected himself.

“That’s what we got,” he said, speaking to the light. He stood, wiping off residual rock debris from his butt and headed back to the base of the wooden cave ladder. Though the first plank seemed more than capable of supporting his weight Kopius was not as convinced about several others that he could see. One of the planks in question was at roughly the height of his outstretched hands and he opted to try a pullup. He placed a handhold just above where the wood was nailed to the cave wall. After a preliminary tug, Kopius pulled his body off the floor with the grace of a practiced puller-upperer. Letting himself down, he marveled at the strength and ease of doing a single pull-up.

When Cory played baseball, pull ups were an everyday thing. Though he was slender, he was fit and athletic. The larger players would tease him about his size but would pay their respects after he would excel in everything else besides brute strength. Pull-ups, to Kopius’s recollection, were the first time he understood that strength was not absolute. That application of strength was the true measure of power. Pull ups are meant to be paced and consistent, with an established rhythm to maximize longevity. The meat heads, in general, did not understand this. They would approach the challenge with the pace and vigor of a boy running from his own virginity. While Cory would take the measured approach, his larger challengers would exhaust themselves within seconds while appearing to dry-hump the air.

The smallest of smiles creeped across the face of Kopius as realized it had been a long time since had done a pull up. Most VR simulations did their best to emulate and deliver on all the human senses, physiques and emotions. Some, like mentioned before, were so real that real life felt surreal. Yet with all of these, there are limitations, exceptions and guidelines. One of the guidelines Kopius was just remembering was that self-harm, like cutting, was not emulated. Much like suicide and any array of lewd or otherwise illegal happenings, there were activities that could not transpire. These were, among many others, safety protocols in place to avoid and/or discourage despicable behavior or self-harm.

An old friend of Cory’s had once been a cutter in real life. When the friend tried it in a VR realm, instead of alerting the security protocols around such behavior, he was given a Secret Quest. It turned out to be a Self Help algorithm, that took individual Users on customized journeys, through specific trials, so that they could learn to love themselves. Given the right set of circumstances, many people healed. These were the stories Cory loved to hear but were far and few between in their telling. Not to mention filtering through the truely sick fucks, making up these stories for attention. At present, Kopius had no interest in causing himself any more harm than was necessary.

Giving the plank a second try, this time placing both hands next to each other in the center of the board, Kopius pulled.

CRACK!!

His feet didn’t even leave the ground before the board snapped in two, leaving the separated pieces hanging on their respective spikes. Mentally congratulating himself for being safe rather than sorry, he stepped back to give his path up yet another look. It was mostly a straight climb up. Some planks were a bit off center but otherwise, if he could make the climb without falling, it led out to the light.

He then stared at the two broken pieces of plank that hung lazily from their respective nails. Nails that remained in place, Kopius noted. Reaching up as if to give the board a backhand, he wedged his fingers between the wood and the cave wall until he could touch the metal spike. He tried to give it a pull but only the wood bent. He tried using the board as prying leverage but to no avail. This nail and by extension, he hoped, all the nails were firmly in place.

“I guess that can be Plan B.” Kopius muttered.

Hoping Plan A would present itself shortly, Kopius considered alternatives. He had just jumped pretty far earlier, easily further then he could have in real life. Even in his prime, that jump would not have been possible. Maybe I have some passive traits? Kopius mused. ...or an advanced jumping Skill?...Could be a race specific thing… Magic? He scrunched his nose at this last thought.

“I have Air magic.” Kopius said this while remembering that he was ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine-nine-nine percent sure that the little spinny symbol with the wavy lines, was Air magic. He got a bit of goosebumps when his logic jumped a bit too far as he wondered if he may be able to fly.

Grinning, he looked up to center himself with the light from above. Kneeling down as if to start a race, one closed fist slowly descending, Kopius began to summon his inner Neo. One of his grandfather's all-time favorite classic movies was The Matrix. Papa had it on VHS, DVD, HDDVD, Blu-Ray, fiber optic drives, HDVR, you name it, he had it. Before his passing, Cory was able to secure a yet to be released ‘The Matrix: Full Experience’ VR simulation. It was the first and only time Papa had the opportunity to live the life of his hero, Mr. Anderson. The price Cory paid for securing said unreleased copy was negligible in comparison to the joy he saw on his grandfather's face.

Paying his respects to the late and great K. Reaves, Kopius leaped. He did not, in fact, fly. He did land awkward though, stumbling to one side before catching his momentum against the cave wall. His jump was higher than expected but the flying would have to wait. Happy with the knowledge that if he were to come across a basketball game, he could most definitely dunk...No more “just play D” for me! Kopius chuckled to himself.

A grumble in his stomach rid Kopius of any further daydreams, this new sensation brought him back to the present. That had felt like real hunger, like, you worked two shifts and that Coke with a Snickers bar you had for lunch just won’t cut it, rumbling. The kind that feels like an earthquake and sounds like a sea lion in heat.

He was amazed at the realism of the game he was stuck in for the umpteenth time. The problem was that the realism he was looking for came in the form of a functioning user interface with a Logout button. Mentally pulling up his interface, for the umpteenth-and-oneth time, he was not surprised by its blankness. Of course the name he chose sat in bold letters at top center.

“Everything seems to be working fine except you!” Kopius scolded the blank page before willing it to go away. Seeing no other options, Kopius gave in and opted to execute Plan B.

Occam seemed to have the edge in this one.