Episode 27

50/50

I found myself standing in the lobby alone. Lucy hadn’t arrived yet. So, I occupied myself by checking out the scene.

Unlike my previous visits to the lobby, things were unusually quiet. There were no crowds milling about, waiting for simulator sessions. There was only a handful of UCCs, gathered in a small group, talking. No one so much as glanced in my direction.

The ambiance was different as well. The lighting seemed off. Not necessarily the level of illumination, but maybe a different spectrum of light. And although I couldn’t put my finger on it, I would swear that some of the furnishings had been rearranged. The AIs had probably updated it since my last visit, which had to have been over 3 months ago now.

There were two hallways on opposite ends of the lobby. One of these led to private rooms. I retained some memories of traveling through that hallway, but I had no recall of being inside any of the rooms. Command had erased those memories. Possibly because they included Cherri. I wasn’t sure.

The other hallway, however, was a complete mystery to me.

I was getting a little antsy waiting for Lucy, so I decided to do some exploring, just to pass the time.

Entering the unfamiliar hallway, I noticed that, like it’s mirror image across the lobby, none of the doors had any identifying marks on them. Out of idle curiosity, I began testing the knobs on some of the doors as I passed. They were all locked.

I continued walking down the hallway checking doors at random, when one of the knobs unexpectedly yielded to the twist of my hand. I froze. I was suddenly and inexplicably hesitant to learn what secret the door might be hiding. Was it fear holding me back?

Standing perfectly still and staring at the unlocked door, my imagination ran wild. What could be inside? A portal to another dimension? A room full of snakes? Monsters?

How could a Marine who had engaged in deadly combat, who wasn’t even human anymore, be afraid? And of what?

Physically, I, or at least my consciousness, resided safely in a control module, plugged into the charging network of the troopship. This hallway, and the attached lobby were just digital constructs, existing only as electrons arranged into patterns by a software program. How could they possibly harm me? For all intents and purposes, this door wasn’t even real.

I tightened my grip on the doorknob and twisted it cautiously, until there was a faint click. Easing the door open slightly, I could hear the low thump of a rhythmic beat. It was barely audible through what sounded like the buzz of many indistinct conversations in the background. As I swung the door open, I was assaulted by a cacophony of noise so loud, it threatened to overwhelm my virtual eardrums.

Before me was a riotous crowd of Marines in full party mode.

Not unlike some magnetic force, the lure of forgetting about my troubles and joining in the festivities, pulled me into the dimly lit space. It was standing room only, and moving through the dense throng of avatars involved a lot of virtual body contact. I was getting up close and personal with dozens of Marines in the process.

With no particular plan in mind and not seeing anyone I knew; I made my way towards the approximate center of the room. Here I discovered a collection of low tables and sofas occupied by a group of Marines who were engaged in a spirited discussion.

One of the Marines looked familiar. I struggled to connect a name to the face, but eventually recalled that his handle was Chef. The guy had given me some advice and encouragement just before my first mission. He was one of the few veterans willing to make an effort to help out a new recruit.

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I stood outside the circle of Marines, unsure of whether I should interrupt or not, when suddenly he looked in my direction and did a doubletake. I couldn’t hear what he said, but he seemed to mouth the words “Holy fuck!”, then elbowed the guy next to him and pointed excitedly at me.

Chef stood up and staggered towards me with outstretched arms, proclaiming loudly. “It’s Outline! He made it back!”

Someone said, “I don’t believe it!”

Then I heard someone else say, “It’s a fucking miracle!” Indeed, I thought.

Chef enveloped me in a suffocating bearhug and said, “You’re alive! We thought you got your ass blown up back on Trappist 1-e.”

Other Marines slapped me roughly on the back as Chef, dragged me over to a sofa. “Sit down. Hang out with us while we celebrate your … uh … “

He seemed at a loss for words, so I helpfully suggested, “My return?”

“… your resurrection dude!”

It seemed my unexpected return had taking on a quasi-biblical significance to Chef and his friends. I wondered how much of their enthusiasm was being fueled by some kind of intoxicant, and how I might get my hands on some.

As we sat together, I was interrogated about my extended absence and what it felt like to get blown up. I answered their questions as best I could, but at the same time, I was trying to compose a plan to get some of whatever mood-altering substance they were on. I could use the boost.

I was still struggling to come up with a plan when one of the Marines, a guy called Alice, said, “Hey! Give Outline some 50/50. He needs to celebrate his homecoming. He’s the ... uh… whaddya call it?”

The guy sitting next to him suggested, “the Homecoming Queen!” The group of Marines exploded in a storm of laughter. Whatever these guys were taking, they had obviously taken too much.

I asked, “What’s 50/50?”, hoping it was something digitally intoxicating.

“It’s good shit man. Try some.” With that less than enlightening description, he held out a slip of paper to me. I could see it had some characters and numbers written on it, but otherwise, it was just a piece of paper.

Clueless, I asked, “So, what’s this?”

Chef explained, “It’s a coupon. Just text that code to My Wizard and he’ll send you a hit of 50/50, no charge.”

Not sure why, but I found it troubling that My Wizard was in the digital drug business, in addition to his many other commercial ventures. Offering complimentary doses of drugs darkly hinted at a sophisticated marketing strategy, or something even more sinister. If My Wizard really was an AI, he was an extremely clever one.

Suddenly timid about recklessly dosing myself with an unfamiliar party drug, I decided some due diligence was in order. I asked, “What’s this going to do to me?” Another round of unrestrained laughter erupted from the group in response.

Unexpectedly, I heard Lucy’s distinctive voice rising above the din of the party. I turned around to find him standing just behind me. “You’re running with a pretty rough crew Marine.”, he announced.

I apologized for not meeting him in the lobby, and explained, “I did some exploring and ended up here.”, gesturing to my newly found crew.

“No worries.” He then proceeded to answer my question by explaining how 50/50 worked its magic.

“50/50 is a behavioral randomization program. It overrides your normal reactions to inputs, and substitutes different reactions, randomly.

Approximately 50% of the time, you’ll respond normally to eternal stimuli. The rest of the time you’ll react in a totally unexpected manner. That's why it’s called 50/50. It’s kind of the digital equivalent of tossing a coin to decide how you’re going to publicly humiliate yourself. Regardless, some people seem to enjoy it.”

I had spent much of the day agonizing over my recent run of bad luck and felt mentally exhausted. I desperately wanted to change things up. It would be great to just let go a little. To not feel the need to constantly be in control of everything I did, and every word I spoke. 50/50 sounded like a convenient way to do exactly that.

But I was also leery. Experiencing random reactions to external stimuli seemed like it could quickly spiral out of control.

“Is it safe?” I asked. More laughter from the crowd.

Even Lucy chuckled at my naivety. “Of course, it’s not safe. But that’s kind of the point. You will socially embarrass yourself, but it does have some safeguards built into it. 50/50 won’t corrupt any of your files and it’s a self-limiting program.

It’s designed to be temporary, so it deletes itself after about 60 minutes. And it’s not like you could harm yourself here by jumping off a tall building anyway, because … digital. But the potential for social harm is another thing all together. It’s your call Marine.”

I looked around at my couch-mates. They didn’t seem to be making asses out of themselves, and they were all high on 50/50. I felt the irresistible tug of peer pressure as they encouraged me to join them in digital impairment. Even Lucy hadn’t categorically told me not to take it.

Without another thought, I downloaded the code and flashed a thumbs up. I grinned like a fool as my fellow Marines, veterans no less, celebrated my initiation into the 50/50 club.

“Congrats man!”

“The worm has turned for you bro.”

“Fiddy fiddy!”

Lucy stood apart from the others with his arms crossed, only nodding slightly at me. But I was so caught up in the enthusiasm of the moment I didn’t think anything of it. I was just enjoying hanging out with my new ‘bros’ and feeling relaxed as I waited for the effects to kick in.

I didn’t have to wait long.