Alternity (29 page)

“Okay, okay, I’ve almost got it. There!” Dawn hits enter and the screen flashes twice. He looks up at me with a grin. “The air should be not only rerouted through a cleansing filter, but completely under Eclipser control. I programmed in new authorization codes and rerouted the control center to one of the megacomputers back at headquarters. I also successfully inserted a virus into their server that should make it extremely difficult to wrest control back from us.”

“Great,” I say. “Mission accomplished. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We head out of the room, the drones still going about their work, barely registering our intrusion. I glance back at them one more time, pity stirring in my heart. I’m so glad Dawn escaped before they did that to him.

We wander through the low-ceilinged passageways, guided by my hand map. The building is so big and the passages so twisty it’s hard to tell if we’re going the right way. Soon, I realize in dismay, the map doesn’t line up at all.

“Which way?” Dawn asks as we stop at an intersection.

I scan one direction, then the other. “I hate to say this, but …” I throw him an apologetic look. “I think we might be lost.”

“Great.” He grimaces. “That’s just what we need.”

“Well, let’s keep going. Maybe something will start to look familiar again,” I suggest, not seeing any other options.

We continue on, taking random lefts and rights in a seemingly endless maze of tunnels. My heart pounds. What if we never get out? What if they find us wandering here? At least we accomplished our mission, I try to remind myself. We may die, but others will live.

It’s not as comforting a thought as I’d like.

“What’s this?” Dawn asks suddenly, stopping. I come up behind him to see what’s got his attention. It’s a set of metal double doors with a single sign affixed: MOONGAZING CONTROL ROOM.

“This must be where they developed the astrophysics program to send people to Earth,” I exclaim, scarcely able to draw a breath. An insatiable curiosity overwhelms me. Maybe I can finally find out some answers about the program. And more importantly, about who I really am. “We should check it out,” I say, trying to keep my voice nonchalant.

Dawn narrows his eyes. “That’s not on the agenda,” he reminds me. “We’re supposed to be in and out.”

“I know, but …” I trail off, not knowing exactly how to explain.

Luckily, Dawn recognizes my need. He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You want to know whether or not you’re really Mariah,” he concludes.

I nod. “It’s important to me.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll check it out. But just for a minute. Then we’ve got to get out of here before we end up setting off some alarm.”

I run the thumb simulator over the sensor and the doors swing open. I suck in a breath as we step inside, nervous beyond belief. I want to know. But at the same time, I’m scared to find out the truth. What if it’s something I’m not ready to hear?

I steal a glance at Dawn. Beautiful, wonderful Dawn. He loves me, I tell myself. And he will love me no matter who I really am, right? Skye or Mariah. He cares for me. I have to trust in that.

Somewhat reassured, I look around. Confidence fades as I recognize what we’ve stepped into. The room is like a football-field-sized warehouse, with row upon row of computers. Black boxes with blinking red and yellow lights are stacked one on top of the other from floor to ceiling, with only narrow passageways allowing access between them. Wires rope the floor and metal-beamed ceiling, all leading to the back side of the room. A few nTs wander the aisles, checking the computers. They ignore us, as the rest have, thank god.

I throw a confused look at Dawn, wondering what all this machinery, all this major computer power amassed in one room could possibly be for. I mean, I know what the computers are. Chix0r has a server room just like this, though ten times smaller. This is definitely a central command center for some kind of massive network.

We walk toward the back of the room, stepping over wires in our path and avoiding the nTs. We come across a door labeled OPERATIONS. Dawn glances at me. I nod and open the door with the thumb simulator. We step inside.

The room we enter reminds me of NASA’s Ground Control. nTs man rows of terminals, all facing a wall-sized computer screen with a satellite map of …

I scrunch my eyes. Is that Manhattan?

“Wow,” I whisper. “That’s …”

“Earth?” Dawn concludes.

“Well, it’s a map of one city on Earth. New York. Where I’m from.”

As if on cue, one of the nTs types a command into her terminal, and the screen zooms in. I can now see people bustling up and down a busy midtown street, as clearly as if I were watching a movie or a live video feed, or just simply looking out a window.

“They must be monitoring Earth or something,” I reason, trying to make sense of it all. “Keeping an eye on the Terrans who ‘Gaze.”

“Yeah,” Dawn says, sounding doubtful. He sits down at one of the computer terminals and starts typing in commands. “Look,” he says, “other feeds.”

I peer over his shoulder, fascinated. “You’re right,” I exclaim. “This one’s the Upper West Side where I live. Lincoln Center. See, I sometimes go sit by that fountain and read.” I look at the next screen over. “And that’s the East Village,” I say, pointing. “Outside Club Luna. That’s where the ‘Gazers all hang out.” I scratch my head. “I wonder if they just sit here and watch all the places ‘Gazers visit. To make sure they’re safe or something.”

But even as I say this, doubts niggle at my brain. Something’s not quite adding up here. How could the government monitor an alternate reality from Terra? How could they place cameras on the streets and somehow send the live signal back to headquarters? My interdimensional physics training is spotty—okay, nonexistent—but this doesn’t make sense. And even if they could monitor everyone, why would they bother? Why would they care what their citizens are doing on Earth?

And, most troubling, what are all these servers for?

“Skye, check this out,” Dawn says, typing a few commands on the keyboard. He pulls up a 3-D architecture program that’s currently busy rendering a skyscraper. I stare at the screen, unable to comprehend what I’m saying. “But that’s the new graphic arts building at my school,” I say, gulping. “They’re supposed to open up next semester.”

Dawn looks at me. “They’re building it
here
,” he says slowly. “Skye, I think I understand what’s going on now. You might want to sit down.”

His words might as well be a truck barreling me over at a hundred miles an hour. I sink into a chair, crazy thoughts pinging all over my brain. It can’t be, can it? No. This is impossible. But, the massive servers. The map rooms and rendering programs.

I dive for a computer and latch on to a keyboard, typing commands as fast as my fingers can handle. The network is surprisingly simple to navigate, nearly identical to my game back on Earth. I open directories, scan folders, read files. A dawning horror consumes me at each turn as I recognize people, places, objects. It’s all here. Everything about the Earth I know.

I find a folder listed
PATCH CONTENTS
and click open the READ ME file.

Notes to Earth Patch 11.09.02

Major subway upgrade. System Users will no longer have to wait twenty minutes for a train.

Doorman NUCs added to several apartment buildings. New celebrity NUCs added to Luna locale. Several cultural and historical name inaccuracies fixed. Fashion update: We’ve introduced a 1980s retro wardrobe players can choose from, including legwarmers, horizontal striped tops, and leggings.

New goals added: In order to keep visiting Terrans involved, they will be approached and offered a variety of new objectives when they interact with NUCs. Each objective will reward the User in a new way.

“What are you reading?” Dawn asks, coming over behind me. “What’s a NUC?”

“Nonuser character,” I guess, my voice choked, everything falling into a sick sort of place. “An NPC is a video game term for a computer-generated character. They look like regular players, but they’re actually just computer programs, designed to assist or distract players from their goals. I think a NUC is something very similar.”

“So, why would there be those on Earth?” Dawn asks.

That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. I stare at the screen, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to come up with some logical explanation besides the very obvious one right in front of me.

I think back to my last trip to Earth. The doorman, my poster, the express subway, the change in club clothes, the whispers that Paris Hilton was hanging out at Luna. My stomach churns. My vision grows spotty. I want to be sick.

It can’t be. This has to be some kind of awful joke. Some kind of mistake. I’m reading it all wrong. I’m drawing conclusions that shouldn’t be made. This is impossible. Absolutely impossible.

And yet.

“What if Earth isn’t another world after all?” I ask slowly. “What if ‘Gazing is really just a game?”

Dawn sits down beside me, face solemn, stroking my back with a gentle hand. He’s already figured it out, I realize. He knows it’s true.

“Oh God, it’s all here,” I say, choking out the words past the huge lump in my throat. “Maps, people, objects, quests. All the tools game designers need to create a virtual reality. Terrans aren’t being transported to another world at all. They’re just being uploaded into some freaking video game!”

Desperate to be wrong, I open another folder. One labeled NUCs. Inside are 3-D renderings of people and data. Some characters I know. Bruno, the burly bouncer from Luna. Suzy. My boss, Madeline.

And Craig. My own boyfriend.

“ ‘Computer-generated nonuser characters shall enhance the world, provide a more realistic atmosphere to the game, and offer quests to eligible players,’ “ I read quietly. “ ‘They can be identified by moon tattoos on their hands or necks.’ “ I think back to Suzy. To Craig. To the tattoos they sported. I thought it was a new trend. Stupid, stupid me.

I lean back in my chair, trying to absorb it all, to take it all in. My mind feels like it’s going to explode. It’s been hard enough coming to terms with the fact that maybe I’m actually someone I don’t know, that I could be Mariah from Terra and not Skye from Earth. It’s quite another to realize that not only am I definitely not from Earth, but Earth doesn’t exist, except in a room of computer servers and the imaginations of some very creative programmers.

No wonder Earth is so much like Terra. Terrans created it. That’s why we have the same pop culture references, the same Starbucks on the corner, the same fashion sense, the same language. Not because of some ridiculous parallel universe theory. But because everything on Earth was literally created by Terran game designers. They’ve simply taken a snapshot of their prewar past and expanded on it. Made it cooler, better, nicer. Added some sunshine. Some moonbeams. And there you have it: a pleasing diversion for bored Indys.

Just like the RealLife video game. Chix0r designed the game to be an escape from everyday life, allowing players to become someone more interesting for a few hours. To free themselves from the stresses and annoyances of real life.