(originally
published April 26, 2015)
Who can resist the X meets Y challenge? Though this week
has been absolutely bananatown on the work and home front, I had to make time
for Chuck Wendig’s latest writing
challenge. It was my only solace of the week. Herewith, a mash-up between Twin Peaks and The Matrix.
After the walls melted away, Ryland stood alone in a
forest. A dense fog settled among the tall pines. A soft lapping of water came
from the right, but the body of water wasn’t visible. A crow cawed in the
distance, ahead of her on the wide path.
Gone was the labyrinth of skyscrapers she had known all
her life. The absence of sirens disoriented her. Ryland turned slowly in a
circle. The portal was gone as well. So jarring was the sensation that she
wasn’t sure which world was real—the one she believed she was a resident of, or
this one, rich in earthy smells with soft ground beneath her feet.
The lone call of a crow came again, this time more urgent
than before. Though she couldn’t see it, Ryland was certain it was aware of her
presence.
“Damn her for talking me into this,” she said.
Only minutes ago, she was meeting Wren, an old friend, in
a bodega near the theater district. She wanted to go clubbing. Wren had other
plans.
“You need to
help me,” she implored. “I’m trapped between two worlds. I don’t know how much
time I have here. Everything flickers—then I’m suddenly elsewhere.”
Ryland reacted calmly. The virtual reality business was a
3-trillion-dollar industry, consuming all forms of media, and all too many
impressionable people were overly susceptible to its lures.
Despite safety measures to alert those unable—or
reluctant—to come out of a virtual world, many people disabled the alarms on
their own devices, preferring to neglect their own needs, often resulting in
death. Regulators shrugged off the reports of disturbing trends in starvation
and neglect. The benefits were too great—a pacified population and enormous
profits. “People should be free to make their own decisions,” they said. “We
aren’t in the business of being a nanny state.”
“It’s a portal to the multiverse,” Wren said, sliding the
device across the table where they unwrapped their sandwiches.
Ryland rolled her eyes. “So says the ad campaign.”
And yet here she was. It was unlike any VR experience she
ever had.
When the crow called again, she began to walk down the
path. The fog enhanced the scent of pine needles and moist earth. The scant
park in the city was nothing like this. Those
trees are fake anyway. Pollution had long since choked plant life into
extinction.
The path rounded a corner. Long benches made of split
logs stood to the side of the path. A crow swooped down and landed on a nearby
tree stump. It regarded her with its head tilted to one side.
When she blinked, the crow had transformed into a tall
man wearing a silver suit. His black hair was combed to the side. His grin was
wolfish, and his eyes seemed to reveal a cosmos that lay beyond this world.
“It’s about time you arrived,” he said in a mellifluous voice.
Ryland cast a skeptical eye over the handsome man’s
figure. “Who are you?”
“Your host,” he said. He bowed deeply, sweeping one arm
out as if to hold a top hat.
“What’s your name?”
“Ah, well…people find it easier to name what they don’t
know on their own terms. Being presented with a title puts many people off.” He
paused mid-bow. “I am at your service, however you choose to name me.”
Ryland stopped short of using her favorite swear words.
She bit her lip, the unease of this world sinking into her skin and to her very
marrow. The beauty of the forest darkened with a creeping fear. The man staring
at her didn’t waver.
Unwilling to come up with a name for the crow who
apparently transformed into a man, she decided to change the subject. “What am
I supposed to be doing here?”
“Didn’t the little bird tell you?”
“Little bird? Oh. Wren.” Ryland smiled in spite of
herself.
The man nodded.
“What is happening to her?”
“The answers cannot be revealed outside of the cabin.”
“What cabin?”
When Ryland next blinked, the man was gone. The crow
paused on the tree stump next to the bench and flapped its wings. It cawed once
and flew down the path. She had no choice but to follow.
The disorienting feeling of being in such a remote place
was amplified by the fog. Movies never had the sounds of the forest. There was
always dialogue and music. Things rustling in the distance and branches
clicking together high above rattled her nerves. Her mysterious shape-shifting
host had disappeared, but she was certain he observed her every move. He’s probably in my head, too.
The path wound down to the right, bringing her closer to
the water. A crescent of mirror-gray water appeared. Most of the lake was
obscured by trees and fog. A low cabin, shaded by trees, rested next to the
lake. The cabin was weathered and sagging slightly. Its shuttered windows
revealed nothing within.
Ryland approached, stepping onto the porch with
trepidation. She put her ear to the door. Strange sounds from behind the door
were faint.
The door swung inward. A young boy wearing dark
sunglasses held it open, waving her inside with a sense of urgency. “Don’t let
the light in,” he said. “And don’t let the truth out.” His sandy blond hair was
combed to the side, and he wore an outfit that reminded Ryland of films from
the early twentieth century.
As Ryland entered the one-room cabin, she saw Wren, who
was dressed in the fashions popular in the city where they grew up—clothes for
clubbing—black boots and a purple-blue dress with a black vest. Wren sat in a
leather chair, arms straight along the armrests. Her eyes were closed.
The cabin door closed behind her. The room darkened. A
bare lightbulb danged from the center of the ceiling. When Ryland came to stand
in the center of the room, it began to flicker erratically.
The shape-shifting host in the silver suit leaned in the
corner of the room, picking his teeth. “Ah, she’s here. Very good. You see
that, son? Have a little faith in the ways of chaos.”
“The ways of chaos?” Ryland asked.
The boy put his finger to his lips. “Shh. Learn your
place.”
She scowled at him and went to kneel by her friend. “Are
you okay?”
The horror sank in. Wren’s wrists and ankles were bound
by iron shackles. Ryland shook her by the shoulders. “Wren!” There was no
response.
The lightbulb continued to flicker—maddeningly, incessantly.
Obscured by an increasing volume of static, jazz from a
bygone era filled the air. Shadows danced along the walls.
“Why are you doing this?” shouted Ryland. “What are you
doing to her?”
“Time for the truth?” asked her enigmatic host with a wry
smile. “Life is energy.” Shadows flickered over his silver suit. “Energy must
be directed to secure the portals. You see, my dear, no reality is real…and
yet, all realities are real.”
“So she was right about the multiverse.”
“Indeed. You see so few universes with your technology,
but we’re working to change that.”
“We?”
The host stood and straightened his lapels. “The virtual
reality industry, of course! Silly girl. Try to keep up. Some realities are
more predatory than others, but all entities must sustain themselves and their
worlds. We reach in, we take what we need.”
Ryland shook her friend by the shoulders again. “Wren,
wake up. We have to leave.”
Wren’s eyes snapped open. Her mouth opened in a silent
scream. Her eyes were windows into an endless cosmos. Wren’s voice blended in
with the jazz. The static cleared momentarily to let the lyrics though. Let your heart go and let it drift/Clear the
shoals or your soul falls in a rift/The void takes all and each precious moment
is a gift…
The static rose and devoured the words. Wren’s mouth
closed and the jazz continued without lyrics. Her eyes stared sightlessly
ahead.
“The little bird is gone,” the boy said in a lilting
tone.
Ryland sank to the floor and cowered at her friend’s
feet. Rough planks shifted beneath her. Grit coated the palms of her hands. “I
want to leave.” Tears crept down her face.
The host swept down and his face hovered in front of her.
A smattering of galaxies swirled within his inky-black eyes. “You want to
leave?” He sighed, planting his elbows on his thighs as he crouched. “Oh, but
where to go? Where, where, where? If you’re trying to hide, understand there is
nowhere to go. I’ll let you fly for a while, just like the little bird. But we
will always find you. When time runs out…” his mouth made a clicking sound and
he snapped his fingers.
The boy behind him chuckled. “Through time, at any
distance. We know every place to hide. No one is better at hide and seek.”
The host extended a silver arm and held out an onyx orb
to her. “Choose your world, but choose wisely.
