“Go for it,” I whisper, poking him in the side. “Work your magic.”
Dawn nods, keeping his head down, so as to not alert the drones inside the room. Luckily, as the others had, they barely acknowledge our presence as we head to the back of the room. Dawn locates an unattended computer and takes a seat in front of it. His face is tense, anxious, as his fingers swiftly dance across the keyboard. His brow furrows.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just a little more complicated than I thought it would be.” He types a few more command lines. I scan the room. We haven’t been noticed yet. That’s good. Though, odd, really. Eerie. I mean, I know there’s a skeleton crew on because it’s nighttime, and I know that the crew is made up of nearly mindless bioworkers, but still. There’s just something strange about two people being able to waltz into a high-security government facility and mess with whatever we want with little interruption.
“Hurry,” I hiss at Dawn as he slips a small flash drive into a terminal. A horrifying thought occurs to me. What if they know we’re here? What if they’re watching us as we speak, lulling us into a false sense of security before they pounce? I glance up at one of the cameras that silently scans the room. Who is on the other side of the lens watching?
“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.
A game for people to get away from a game. Oh god.
“Are you okay, Skye?” Dawn asks, peering at me with worried eyes.
“Skye?” I repeat bitterly. “Skye? I’m not Skye. Skye’s just a made-up persona created by a video game designer. Earth doesn’t exist, so that means Skye doesn’t exist either. You were all right all along, Dawn. I’m Mariah. Obviously I’m Mariah.”
Dawn pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tight. I try to relax in his arms, but my body is trembling too hard. I bury my face in his shoulder and sob. It’s all too much to take. I can barely breathe.
My whole life has been a lie. My every memory obviously implanted, just as Dawn warned. My parents, my boyfriend, my very world? Not only will I never see them again, but in reality I’ve never seen them at all. They don’t really exist.
“I’m so sorry, Skye,” Dawn murmurs.
I pull away from his hug. Angry. Hurt. Confused. Alone. This must be hard? Please. Hard doesn’t even begin to explain the pain, the anguish, the horror at what I’ve just seen. How can I deal with this? How can I just accept the fact that my whole reality exists solely on a freaking computer server?
“So, what does this mean for the Eclipsers?” I demand, my voice harsh. “I mean, the fact that Earth’s a computer program instead of another world? Will that help or hurt their cause? What does this mean?”
Dawn looks at me helplessly. “I don’t know,” he says. “I hadn’t thought about it, really. I’m more worried about you.”
His words bring a small comfort. I remind myself that I am not facing this horror alone. I’ve had a great shock, sure, but at the same time, I’d already long ago given up my world in exchange for a life here. I belong on Terra. With the Eclipsers, with the Dark Siders—with Dawn, who loves me completely, no matter what. So, as horrifying as it is to realize my whole past has been a lie, at least I can be assured that my future is true.
“It does prove a point, I suppose,” Dawn adds. “Now we know for sure that the government is just trying to steal the Indys’ money and land.”
“We need to find a way to let the Indys know,” I say, pulling out my camera and taking a few snapshots of the room. I’m desperate to focus, to push down the panic growing inside me. “For proof,” I explain.
Dawn looks at me. “Are you okay?” he asks again. “You don’t have to be strong here. You’ve just been through a horrible shock. It’s okay to be upset.”
I swallow hard, loving him so much at that moment I can barely stand it. “I know,” I manage to say without choking. “I’ll deal with it later. Right now, we have to focus on our mission.”
I finish taking photos and we step outside the room. My legs feel like lead, making it nearly impossible to walk. My brain won’t calm down, reeling at top speed. I’d like nothing more than to find a quiet room and just sit down and process it all in my head, alone. But analysis will have to wait until we’re safe.
We head back through the server room, my chest hurting as I see the whirring machines, knowing my whole life is stored somewhere on those hard drives. Everything that means anything to me could simply be deleted at a moment’s notice. A simple patch to fix a bug could wipe out my whole existence.
Still, I’m a real person, I try to reassure myself. Most of my memories may be fake, but I’m real. I’m Mariah. A revolutionary leader. A savior to the downtrodden. The girl Dawn loves. I’ve got to hol
d on to that.
We go back out into the hallway to continue our search for the exit. We come to a dead end with a locked door that I open with the simulator, praying it’s a way out. Instead, it opens into a room filled with large file cabinets against the walls. Curious, I walk over to one, peering at its label.
Rupert Smith 11-01-2107
I pull open the drawer, to see what kind of files they might have on old Rupert. To my surprise, the drawer actually contains Rupert himself. Or what’s left of him, anyway. His corpse lies white and stiff on a cold metal slab. I put two and two together and realize what this whole room must be.
“A morgue,” I exclaim. “Dawn, come look at this.”
Dawn walks over to my side, peering down at poor Rupert, a former middle-aged Indy by the look of it. His corpse is swollen, naked, drained of blood, and pasty white, a pair of dark shades over his eyes. I reach down, slowly pulling the dark glasses off his face, wondering why he’s wearing them and nothing else. But what’s behind the shades makes me stumble backward in shock. Dawn catches me, propping me up, looking as horrified as I feel.
And here I’d thought it couldn’t get any worse.
“Oh my God!” I murmur, desperate but unable to look away. The sockets where Rupert’s eyes should have been are now hollow, blackened pits; charred remnants of his former peepers. “How strange.” I hurriedly replace the sunglasses. “It’s almost as if he gazed into the sun too long. But that’s crazy. You guys don’t even have sunshine. So, what could have burned out his eyes?”
“Maybe the moon.”
I whirl around, eyes wide. Will this day ever stop surprising me? “Moongazing,” I whisper in shocked realization. “Do you think? I mean, could it really?” I gesture helplessly to the corpse.
Dawn shrugs. “Seems entirely possible. If Earth really is just a computer-generated game, then that obviously means you’re not really traveling to another world when they lock you in one of their rooms. You’re stuck twenty-four-seven in a video game simulation. And the visuals are intense, right? So intense you believe they’re real. What if, after wearing these glasses long-term, they end up literally burning up your eyes?”