Evie sat curled in her bed, Hat perched on her shoulder. They were both focused on her tablet, watching one of the recently released episodes of the Sim. The assassin on screen was named Celia. According to Hat, she was the current top-rated assassin on the Skonarian team. In a little over two years, she had assassinated eighteen points worth of targets. The woman was tall, pushing six feet, with shoulders that would have been impressive on a man. Her hair, short and dirty blond, was her only feature visible above her neck. A white mask covered the rest of her face. The mask was a generic human face, with no holes for her eyes or mouth, form fitted around the woman’s face. The effect was unsettling, and Evie wasn’t sure how she could see or breathe in the thing. Celia’s clothing was a darker version of the uniform Evie wore, covered by a loose overcoat. Despite the layers, it was obvious how muscular the woman was. The overall effect was incredibly intimidating. Evie felt a twinge of jealous worry, wondering how she might stack up against a woman like that.
Celia crouched high up on the flat roof of a building, looking down on a foreign world. She was on the outskirts of some kind of city. The surrounding structures were all tall and rectangular, made remarkable only by how plain they were. All the buildings were identical, with no architectural interest or decorative elements, other than rows of simple square windows. The surrounding landscape was another story. The buildings were nestled into a tropical forest. Trees rose a hundred feet into the air before splitting into massive canopies, the branches of which met a dozen feet above Celia’s head. They reached over the tops of the buildings and intertwined with one another, giving the city an intricate ceiling. Colorful mushrooms and moss spread over every natural surface. Azur was right, it looked damp. But it was also beautiful in a wild, alien way.
As Evie watched, Celia picked up a large backpack from the ground next to her. She reached in and pulled out a long rope, the end of which she tied securely to a nearby protrusion. She walked to the edge of the building, tossed the rope over, and casually lowered herself over the edge.
“Holey Shit!” Evie whispered, feeling a sudden urge to cover her eyes. The camera had moved to follow Celia, emphasizing just how high the woman dangling from the rope was. She seemed completely unbothered by the height and descended quickly, hand over hand, walking her feet down the building’s side. Evie noted that one of Celia’s hands was covered in a glove, made from a unique, shimmering material that Evie didn’t recognize.
Celia passed two rows of windows before stopping in front of a third. Evie’s stomach plummeted as Celia let go of the rope entirely with her gloved hand, her bare hand now the only thing between her and a long fall. Celia made a fist, and a long blade snapped out of a sheath on her forearm. The gesture reminded Evie of Wolverine, from the X-Men, unsheathing his claws. A second later, the blade glowed red hot, and the purpose of the single glove became obvious. If Celia’s hand hadn’t been protected, the blistering heat of the blade would have seared her skin right off. She brought the knife forward, stabbing it slowly into the glass, which melted away around it. Evie watched her cut through the thick glass skeptically. The knife looked hot, but watching it slice through glass like it was butter didn’t feel right. Maybe it wasn’t glass after all.
Celia cut steadily in the shape of a large, rough oval. When only a small sliver remained to hold the rest in place, she sheathed her blade, and gave the inside of her cut a quick kick with one foot. The sliver snapped, and the glass, or whatever it was, fell inwards, hitting the interior floor with a loud THUMP.
The screen blinked, cutting to a different scene. Celia was now inside. The surrounding space was just as plain and utilitarian as the exterior had been. It reminded Evie a little of her high school chemistry class. There were shelves filled with containers and beakers, and different science-y looking devices neatly placed along large work spaces. Celia was rummaging through the shelves, looking for something.
The video cut again. Celia was now back at the window, still inside the building. Her backpack bulged, completely full of whatever she had taken. She reached out the window, grabbing the rope that still hung there, and in one smooth motion pulled herself back out. Once again, the camera angle intentionally emphasized the height and the danger of the move. Celia pulled herself back up the rope, not slowed by the extra weight of the backpack. When she reached the edge of the top of the building, she grabbed the lip and pulled herself over. She untied the rope, neatly coiled it, and tucked it away. Then she turned around and started to jog towards the other side of the roof. The camera focused on her, then slowly panned up, revealing what she was running towards.
“No…” Evie said in shocked disbelief, watching Celia pick up her pace and drop into a sprint.
Hat chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, she’s a crazy son of a bitch. Just watch.” Celia reached the edge of the building and leapt. The camera circled her as she flew, revealing the long distance between the building’s edge and the branch of the tree she was aiming for. Evie’s mouth hung open. The move was stupid, insanely reckless. Evie was sure she could have figured out another, safer way off the roof. With relief, she watched as Celia caught a branch and swung herself into the tree. The last few minutes of the episode followed Celia’s recklessly quick descent, aided by the huge mushrooms growing from the tree’s trunk. Once she was on the forest floor at the edge of the city, Celia pulled the bag from her shoulder. She opened it, giving the contents a long, studying look. Her head tilted back up, the blank white eyes of her mask staring directly at the camera for a full second. Even without visible facial expressions, the move was triumphant. A moment later, she threw the bag back over her shoulder and disappeared into the trees as the screen faded to black.
Hat and Evie sat in silence, continuing to stare at the blank screen. “Holey shit,” Evie said again, her mind reeling. Would she be expected to do things like that?
“Excellent,” said Hat, nodding with approval. He turned to Evie. “We couldn’t have started with a better episode. Now, tell me what you just saw.”
“A lunatic with no sense of self-preservation?” Evie responded, still in shock.
Hat laughed. “Yup, Celia is admittedly a nut-job. A scary, effective nut-job. But that’s not what I meant. What did you just watch? What happened?”
Evie looked at the pigeon and considered. “She broke into a building, stole something, and left.” It seemed like such an inadequate description, but it essentially summed up the episode.
“Bingo!” said the bird, hopping down to the bed and starting to pace. “Three days of work on her end, and that’s all you got. We don’t know what she stole, or where she stole it from, though the break in would have been all over Honrad news when it was discovered a few days ago. We don’t know how any of it relates to her plan, or her current target, if it even does. This is the key to success in the Sim: You need to create intrigue, while revealing as little as you can.”
“So we have control over what we show in the episodes?” she asked slowly.
“Exactly.” Hat stopped and pointed the tip of one of his wings straight at her. “As long as we have enough footage to create an interesting narrative, we get to show, or not show, whatever we want. Like I said, Celia is bat-shit. However, she’s bat-shit with a purpose. Her antics make her entertaining. It’s unusual for an entire episode to focus on a single event, like this one did. But, if you can distract the audience from how little you’re actually showing them by, say, chucking yourself off a damn building, you can get away with it.”
“Interesting.” Evie considered the implications. “We could almost make up a second set of events entirely. Keep all our actions relevant to our assignment off the screen.”
“Yes, and no.” Hat bobbed his head back and forth. “You might get away with that once or twice, but audiences don’t like it when the climax of an assignment comes totally out of left field. Half the fun for them is trying to guess what the assassin is planning. They want to look for clues, to theorize what you’re up to, who you’re hunting. The best operations are obvious in hindsight, but not until everything has played out.”
“Okay, but do I care what the audience thinks? I care about doing well and getting out of this alive.”
“Of course you care what the audience thinks,” said Hat, looking at her like she was soft in the head. “This is a fucking television show. If it’s not entertaining, there are consequences.”
Evie’s heart sank. “Consequences?”
Hat nodded. “You can lose production rights. Audience members rate each episode. If you’re not interesting, or if the audience feels like you’re not being transparent enough, they will start giving you crappy ratings. If those ratings fall below a certain level, then the Blimps will seize control of the production of your episodes until that assignment is complete. I’m required to film you pretty much constantly, though only a small portion of that footage ever gets used. If the Blimps seize production rights, they can show whatever they want. They will do everything they can to sabotage you and your assignment. Believe me, you don’t want that.”
Evie sat in silence. Hat, seeing her stricken expression, leaned over and gave one of her fingers a peck.
“Don’t get worked up. That’s what I’m here for. Your job, for now, is to worry about your training. My job, once we are on planet, is to make sure you’re interesting. If we work together and you listen to my advice, you’ll be fine.”
Evie nodded, grateful that the bird sounded so confident. She tried to relax as they watched the remaining three episodes. Thankfully, Celia’s gravity defying antics seemed, on the surface, to be an exception.
The remaining three assassins were interesting in their own ways. The first was another human, a man named Alberto. He had long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and a lean, dangerous figure. Hanging from a harness at his waist was a small sledgehammer, which Evie assumed was his weapon. A mask also covered his face.
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“Why do they wear masks? Do we really need our identities hidden?” Evie questioned Hat.
“There's no hiding your identity. You’re going to have a fucking umbrella, you’ll be recognizable. There’s useful tech built into them. We’ll go over it when you get it.” Evie nodded thoughtfully. She had to admit they made the assassins more intimidating than they would have been otherwise.
The other two Skonarian assassins were not human, and were working together on a single assignment. One was a small, six-legged creature named Broar. It scampered up walls and trees with ease, reminding Evie of a lizard. Hat said its species was called a “Mimic”, and it quickly became obvious why. It had an impressive camouflage ability, changing its skin’s texture and color to blend in almost perfectly with whatever it was holding on to. It also wore a small mask, but instead of being white, it changed color, blending in with the rest of its body.
The third and final assassin, named E513, was roughly humanoid. Parts of its body bulged and protruded unnaturally beneath its uniform. Metal plates and wires covered the few pieces of skin that Evie could see.
“E513 is an Eket,” Hat explained. “They’re another species that’s popular to use in the Sim. All Eket’s are somewhere between 20-50% machine, optimized for whatever job they performed on their home world. E513 here has an atomic printer built into one arm. He’s spent the entire season making amazing little gadgets to help with his assignments.”
“That seems like a huge advantage. Why is he the only Eket here?”
“Because, unfortunately, they react badly to the spores. Getting him to function on Honrad is a pain in the ass. He has to take a shot every day, which represses his symptoms enough that he can go outside and be useful, but he has limited time. If he’s outside for more than a few hours a day, he will become paralyzed and slowly die.”
“Oh.” Said Evie. “That’s… unfortunate.”
“Yes, which really shows you how good he is, because despite that major limitation, he’s still ranked second, with 15 points.” Hat replied.
Evie nodded, eying the strange being with interest.
All four of the assassins were currently midway through their assignments. Much to Hat’s annoyance, they hadn’t been given access to any of the older episodes, and he had to explain from memory what each assassin had been doing. They went back through each episode, analyzing details and trying to guess what strategies each individual might be using. After some time, Evie started to understand the Sim’s appeal. The episodes were undeniably entertaining. Each assassin was impressive in their own way, made unique by their different styles, species, and weapons. Then there was the layer of audience participation. Similar to a detective story, the episodes contained hidden clues and details, enabling the viewer to engage in speculation.
Evie imagined what this would be like if she was also familiar with the locations and the individuals involved. How much more invested she would be if it took place somewhere like DC, and the targets were political figures she was familiar with. Or better yet, in a country whose politics she disagreed with. It tapped into a voyeuristic part of her that made her uncomfortable, but any guilt she felt was easy to overlook because she knew no lasting harm would come to the targets.
“It really pisses me off that we don’t get access to past seasons,” Hat complained loudly after they had been discussing the four episodes for some time. “It would be so useful to go through an entire arc, one that really worked, so you understand what we’re going for.”
“Why don’t we?” Evie asked. It seemed like they were being denied access to what could be a useful tool.
“Because this is the first Sim taking place on Honrad,” Hat replied. “They don’t want you distracted by other worlds. What’s more unusual is that they are also restricting access to the rest of the episodes on Honrad. Hell, they didn’t give us access to the Blimps’ episodes at all! I understand they want you focused, but this seems a little extreme.”
Evie’s forehead creased at that, before realizing that it made sense. She wouldn’t have a lot of time, and the Skonarians didn’t want their reinforcements wasting too many hours watching TV.
The sound of the curtain over her door being pushed aside interrupted her thoughts. Lubanzi walked in, Amiya perched on his shoulder.
“Nock nock!” he called, giving her a tentative smile and stopping next to the bed.
Evie froze. A loud ringing filled her ears. Her mind flashed back to the last man to sneak up on her, to casually invite himself into her space. Back in Singapore. She needed to get out. To get away from him before he tried something.
“Evie, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” Hat’s voice drifted to her, but she barely heard it. She was on her feet, backing away from the young man by her bed.
Lubanzi’s smile faltered, and he took a step back. His cheerful demeanor vanished, morphing into bitter disappointment. His face snapped Evie back to reality. He didn’t look like a man rejected by a woman. He looked like a scared child, in need of someone to talk to.
Lubanzi wrapped his arms around himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in a quiet, embarrassed voice. He turned and hurried back towards the door.
“Lubanzi, wait,” she called, her unease replaced by the guilty realization that she had massively misjudged the situation. He froze in the doorway, but didn’t turn around. Amiya glared reproachfully back at Evie over his shoulder.
“You just startled me,” Evie said quietly. He didn’t move, and his arms squeezed tighter around his torso.
“Please, come back in, sit down.”. To her surprise, he angrily rubbed the back of a hand across his face before turning. Despite his attempt to hide it, Evie could see the track of a single tear glistening on his cheek. He suddenly looked so young, so out of his depth. She had guessed him to be in his early twenties, but now she was reconsidering. Amiya cooed something unintelligible into his ear, and he walked forward, sitting stiffly down next to her bed.
“I’m sorry.” He looked at the floor as he spoke. “I shouldn’t have barged in on you like that. I wasn’t thinking.”
Evie nodded. “It’s ok. Can we just…establish some boundaries? I would love a friend, but I want to make it clear that’s all I’m open to.”
He stared at her, shocked, eying her incredulously. “What? You thought I was here to… No! Evie, that’s the last thing on my mind. Plus, you’re like thirty-five.”
“Thirty-five!?” Evie responded indignantly. “I’m twenty-seven.” The last few years had aged her, but not that much. She didn’t think...
“Oh, sorry.” A hint of a smile played around his lips. “You white people always look older than you are. No offense.”
Hat snorted loudly, and Evie turned her glare on him. But she was only putting on a show. The tension had eased.
“And you?” she asked, curious. “How old are you?”
Lubanzi’s gaze dropped once more. For a moment, it looked like he was considering lying. Then he replied, “seventeen.”
Evie wasn’t sure how to respond. His naive behavior suddenly made more sense.
“I just thought… maybe we could talk?” Lubanzi said, meeting her eyes again. “I thought you might understand. You must, since you’re here. I haven’t been able to sleep. I just lie awake, worrying about what’s coming, if I’ll survive. Wondering if I made the right choice. And when I do finally drift off, I have nightmares about…” He gestured vaguely at the air. “You know. The day that put me here.”
It was Evie’s turn to look away. She had barely thought about the man she had killed since coming here, and the realization filled her with guilt. There had been so many things to distract her. The thought of maybe seeing her sister again had driven all else from her mind.
“Anyway,” Lubanzi said, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry for giving you the wrong impression. From now on, I promise to only solicit sexual favors from Haruto.” Hat dissolved into laughter next to her, and Evie grinned. Even Amiya gave a soft chuckle.
A light knock on the door sounded, and Mijra entered, carrying a few plates of steaming food. Evie’s stomach gave a loud grumble. It was the first hot food that she had seen in days, and it smelled heavenly. Without a word, Mijra handed a plate of what looked like stir-fried mushrooms to Lubanzi and Evie, and set a third full of some kind of grain mixture down on the bed. The two pigeons immediately flew to it and started chowing down.
Evie couldn’t help but laugh. The producers suddenly looked so much like normal pigeons, devouring their food like it was their last meal, and shouldering each other out of the way to get to the tastiest morsels.
Lubanzi and Evie sat on the floor and continued to chat as they ate. The food unlike anything Evie had ever eaten. The flavor was vaguely mushroom like, but more earthy, with interesting spices. When they finished, Evie opened her mouth to continue their conversation, but an enormous yawn slipped out before her words could. It was about an hour until lights out, and she was losing the battle against her sleepiness. Even though today had been comparatively easy, at least physically, her muscles still ached, and she was ready for bed. Lubanzi took the hint and rose.
“Looks like this old woman needs her rest, Amiya,” he said. Evie shot him a dirty look, and he responded with a grin. She sighed, knowing that joke wasn’t going anywhere. “See you both tomorrow.” They headed out, moving the curtain aside before disappearing from sight.
As they left, Evie turned to eye Hat. Flecks of food covered the bird’s face. She snorted and reached forward to help clean some of it off, but before she could, he violently shook himself. Little grains flew everywhere, landing all over her comforter.
She sighed, distastefully whipping the chunks up as best she could. “No more eating on my bed.” she said, glaring at Hat, but inwardly fighting a smile. “Do you have… I don’t know, a nest or something?”
“Nope,” he responded and hopped to her bedside table. The table obligingly indented, shaping itself around him. “I told you. You’re stuck with me.” He puffed out, wiggling around to get comfortable. “Amiya says thank you, by the way,” the pigeon added. “Lubanzi needs a friend, and she appreciates you giving him a chance.”
Evie looked at the bird. “How did she tell you that?”
“We’re computers, Evie.” Hat said, rolling his eyes. “She messaged me.”
Evie shook her head. It had been surprisingly easy to get used to a talking pigeon. However, the rest of it was going to take a while to sink in. She settled back into the bed, glad to have some time to herself. Picking up her tablet, she returned to her earlier search on Honrad native languages. The Honrad had many, like any species, but by far the most dominant one seemed to be “Quall”.
She backtracked and started another search, this time for the Skonarian native language. To her surprise, she found very few results. But of course, there was no need to learn about the Skonarians. They would tell her everything she needed to know about them. She returned to the previous search. There, she found an excellent resource discussing Quall’s grammatical structure, along with some basic vocabulary. She lost herself in the familiar feeling of studying a new language until the lights blinked out. When they did, she placed her tablet carefully down next to Hat, who was softly snoring on her bedside table, his head tucked under one wing. As she settled down into the bed, her mind wandered back to Lubanzi. The more she got to know him, the more difficult it was to imagine him killing someone, and she wondered what had happened to him. He seemed like such a gentle soul, incredibly out of his depths. Her eyes closed, and as she drifted to sleep, an unwelcome pang of worry shot through her. This was no place for someone like him. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up dead.