{"id":6216,"date":"2013-12-03T00:00:24","date_gmt":"2013-12-03T05:00:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gadflyonline.com\/home\/?p=6216"},"modified":"2013-12-03T15:52:13","modified_gmt":"2013-12-03T20:52:13","slug":"a-childhood-in-heaven","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/a-childhood-in-heaven\/","title":{"rendered":"A Childhood in Heaven"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"ChildhoodInHeaven\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Each breath caused the light to change. Paces above the men, a cut-glass chandelier trembled with their speaking. A team of artisans had crafted the light piece by cleaving glass with diamond chisels. Photons flickered like electrons through a circuit board. Standing on the silk carpet, Braeden reached for salvation.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t seem fragile,\u201d he said to Chisolm while accepting the box.<\/i><\/p>\n

To Braeden, they seemed exactly opposite. Chisolm was pale and soft with an active voice and expression. The box was dense, black, and inert.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you kill yourself in a wreck,\u201d Chisolm replied, \u201cyou\u2019ll ruin it. Otherwise, don\u2019t worry. You have other things to worry about.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

Nothing else in the chamber was black. Even the ebony paneling was deep brown with gold stripes.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cHow much time do I have?\u201d Braeden asked.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cAll the time in the world,\u201d Chisolm told him. \u201cTime is not your problem. It\u2019s what you do with your time. But if you don\u2019t get this serum down south, hundreds of children will die.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

For a moment, Braeden could only stare at the box.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cI do love children,\u201d he whispered.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is your chance to prove it, and to prove yourself,\u201d Chisolm added. \u201cDepending on your success, you\u2019ll prove yourself alien invader, universal prophet, or migrant worker. You\u2019ll learn who you are.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cI never wanted to be a star. I just want to fit in my own world. Not any other.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cBy accepting this challenge, Braeden, you\u2019ll find your proper place. It might not be any of those three. It might be the grave. Regardless, you\u2019ll get what you deserve.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

Chisolm\u2019s polylinen suit had the sheen of sandblasted glass. He might have been attending a seasonal ball. Braeden wore his driving suit. Both men were working.<\/i><\/p>\n

Braeden walked away without another word. Responding to his movement, the chandelier fluttered as though waving adieu.<\/i><\/p>\n

*<\/i><\/p>\n

The car\u2019s high beams threw light along the narrow road. Braeden had not seen another vehicle since leaving the city. Past the ditches and fields, behind the stands of oaks, people waited for morning in their farmhouses, their cottages, their shacks. The nearest lit window was so far from the road it had the size of a star. The apparent size. Stars are huge. Windows and their walls are tiny. Braeden knew that he was minuscule. His dreams had less limit than his body.<\/i><\/p>\n

The box lay on the seat at his side. He did not know how to it.<\/i><\/p>\n

The throaty V8 felt vibrationless at this speed, having found its stride at ninety. Braeden turned on the radio, but heard only crackling. The tires seemed to be skipping over the asphalt, barely touching. Checking his watch, he saw a dim grey light, but no numbers. He was startled by the sight. Grey isn\u2019t a color. Grey is pale black or dark white, either way a lack of hue. Objects reflect grey, but no light source can transmit grey light. Braeden thought this as a small form wearing pale grey moved across the road, and he slammed on the brakes.<\/i><\/p>\n

The hood tilted down as Braeden\u2019s body pressed hard against his seat belt. He grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and the box with the other. As the tires skidded, the smell of burnt rubber lodged in his nose. Braeden stared at a baby crawling across the tarmac, grey outfit bright in the headlights, tiny eyes reflecting fear as the car noisily stopped a few paces away.<\/i><\/p>\n

Remaining on his hands and knees, the baby looked up to Braeden, blinking anxiously. Gritty particles abraded his fingers. Grass from the roadside had stained his jumper at the knees. A baby. An average baby crawling across the road in the middle of nowhere. Braeden saw no nearby house, tent, or vehicle. His car hissed and crackled, anxious to be moving again. Across the adjacent pasture, a large bird flew from its ground nest, continuing to the forest. Braeden wondered if the frightened bird had left its offspring behind.<\/i><\/p>\n

He reached down to the baby, who did not resist Braeden\u2019s grasp. The perfectly average infant spoke with perfect clarity as he met Braeden\u2019s eyes.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cI know who you are.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

Braeden pulled the child against his chest as the creatures attacked. From the roadside brush, a pack of hyenas ran to Braeden and leapt against him, and the child. Their claws scrabbling across the asphalt made the greatest noise. They did not growl or slobber, and their panting seemed moderate compared to their speed and power and the relentless glare in their eyes. Though Braeden pulled the child close and bent protectively, the animals ripped his arms loose with their snouts and claws, knocking Braeden flat to the road. One hyena grabbed the baby\u2019s jumper and ran away, the little body bouncing like a sack. Braeden could not even attempt to rise, for several of the beasts trampled him, their paws smashing his face. Twisting his neck and covering his eyes with both hands, Braeden felt their coats brush against his arms. He smelled their hard, musty scent, and waited for their teeth to begin ripping. Then the pack ran off, following their peer with the baby bundle in its mouth.<\/i><\/p>\n

A gasping bundle of tension, Braeden rose so quickly that he fell to his backside, puffing terrified breaths as he stared at the dark, unmoving brush. Rising slowly, he had to lean against the warm hood to keep himself upright. Palpable anxiety ripped at his nerves, bringing nauseating vertigo. After one more breath of recuperation, he would respond. Either he would drive away and ensure the health of hundreds of infants, or he would run after that one baby in the brush, a child likely dead by then, followed to the afterlife by the uncertain hero.<\/i><\/p>\n

In the distance, he heard the child laugh, but could not judge the sound: happy or horrible? Perhaps he heard a final gargle of demise, a doomed adieu for the loser.<\/i><\/p>\n

He had to grab at the handle twice before opening the door. The action might have been teeth grasping fabric, and the human flesh beneath. After entering, Braeden managed to drive straight down the road despite that trembling hand on the wheel. The other hand reached for the box, but felt only pleated vinyl. The box was a scant two feet away, but Braeden had missed. Separated by the length of one baby.<\/i><\/p>\n

Up to speed again, Braeden tried to concentrate on his goal. He still had a chance for salvation. But he couldn\u2019t think. The tires\u2019 sound against the road suggested scrabbling claws. The thrumming engine was an animal\u2019s growl. Each blade of grass was an innocent arm reaching for him, seeking help. <\/i><\/p>\n

He passed a decaying billboard with flaking paint. Only three words were legible: Please Call today! Continuing, he steered along a sweeping curve, the box sliding against his hip. On this utterly flat stretch of pavement, he accelerated to nearly a hundred, passing a decaying billboard with flaking paint. Only three words were readable: Please Call today! As Braeden steered through a long, sweeping curve, the box slid against his hip. On the following stretch of pavement, he accelerated to nearly a hundred, passing a decaying billboard with flaking paint. Only three words were legible:<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere am I?\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The holovid\u2019s grey light faded as Braeden blinked, blinked and stepped away from the spherical projection, that long road and billboard vanishing. The other men had only been observing, not playing. He made it to the nearest chair before collapsing.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re lost, man,\u201d Chisolm said as he returned to his computer terminal, \u201cthat\u2019s where you are. You love children yet abandon a baby by the side of the road? You wouldn\u2019t make a migrant worker. They try to take care of their kids.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden didn\u2019t much listen. He hated the feeling. Palpable anxiety ripped his nerves, bringing nausea and vertigo. An older man with a concerned expression brought Braeden a glass. Gabe placed his hand on Braeden\u2019s shoulder as he sipped the filtered water. It tasted like hyena piss.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did it look?\u201d Braeden managed to pronounce. He didn\u2019t want to feel weak, despite his roiling guts.<\/p>\n

\u201cExcellent,\u201d Gabe said while reaching to Braeden\u2019s neck to remove the spine mod. It resembled a short length of leather belt. \u201cAs convincing as the best army simulation.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gabe brought the mod to Chisolm, who placed it in a tiny black box.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s as good as the technol you brought us, Lt. Gabe,\u201d Chisolm quipped.<\/p>\n

Braeden found himself staring straight up at a bright rectangle. This plas ceiling light had less character than the cracks in the basement wall where fungus grew. The hyenas had disappeared into brush of exactly that shade of green.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow was the verisimilitude factor for you?\u201d Chisolm asked Braeden.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you feeling better?\u201d Gabe wondered, again standing beside the player.<\/p>\n

Braeden began shaking his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt couldn\u2019t get any better. I could feel the springs in the car seat. I saw a little rock chip in the windshield. I could smell food particles on the hyenas\u2019 teeth. Why hyenas?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were telling us you saw some at the zoo,\u201d Chisolm stated.<\/p>\n

Braeden was feeling better, perhaps too real.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to find that baby.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho was the child?\u201d Gabe asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe,\u201d Braeden replied, his voice still not strong. \u201cIt fits my past. I don\u2019t remember, but I know I was found along the side of a road.\u201d<\/p>\n

They all dressed the same: drably. Average faces, bodies, grooming. Two men, not quite young, plus a third old enough to be an army major. He hadn\u2019t made it that far. He hadn\u2019t made it past the simulation.<\/p>\n

Chisolm waved his hand over the desk pad and the screen changed from tiny graphics to ASCII. Text flashed too fast to follow. He turned to Braeden.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the nature of the game that it responds to the player\u2019s mentality. Since the infant represents you as a child, you want to find yourself. That\u2019s cool. That\u2019s what the game is about.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden blinked, blinked, and understood that he was leaning on a table with one elbow. A molded plastic table the color of bad teeth, hyena teeth.<\/p>\n

Gabe spoke while handing Braeden a self-heating sandwich. Unable to smile, Braeden nodded in thanks.<\/p>\n

\u201cGaming is a waste of the mod tech. It\u2019s more important to find a better place in life than in a game.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chisolm frowned. He was never completely removed from a snide expression.<\/p>\n

\u201cGreat, we\u2019ll save the world when we can afford it. We\u2019re making a game from your sim because the wealthy is paying a lot for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gabe looked to Braeden as the latter chewed his sandwich.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you feeling better? Your blood sugar wasn\u2019t the best.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden touched a crumb on the corner of his mouth. It felt like grit from the road.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. This game takes a lot out of you. Did the sim?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gabe only shrugged as Braeden continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s said they ended the program because it caused psychoses in the trainees. Or it replaced reality, or killed people who died in it. What did it do to you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Gabe needed long seconds to reach for his words.<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing. It\u2019s all behind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m recompiling your input,\u201d Chisolm said while waving his hands over two wireless pads. ASCII flowed with metagraphics on separate planes. \u201cEither that, or I\u2019ll change the parameters to include something sub to a migrant worker. A baby abandoner.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s nothing wrong with migrant workers,\u201d Gabe told Chisolm. \u201cThey\u2019re honest people working hard to support their families.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, but they\u2019re such losers they work for sub wages and get treated like shit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden was feeling strong enough to snicker. He never snickered before meeting Chisolm.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d find something down in being a universal prophet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA false prophet delivering universal bullshit is nothing to brag about,\u201d Chisolm replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, next time I play, I guess I\u2019ll try for alien invader. They\u2019re strong enough to conquer worlds.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOr they\u2019re slimy green freaks,\u201d Chisolm said. \u201cLike pickle turds.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gabe stared at Braeden. He had a way of looking directly into a person. But he always seemed to be sharing a concerned view, not stealing a voyeuristic peek.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not feeling mentally skewed from the game, are you?\u201d he asked Braeden. \u201cDid you have trouble returning to reality?\u201d<\/p>\n

The light from Chisolm\u2019s monitor glared against his face. Grey light.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe numbers say he had no problem leaving. He played strong, and stayed in charge. The hyenas didn\u2019t even scratch him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden looked down to his sandwich. Nothing left. Nothing.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt couldn\u2019t have been as real for you as it was for me,\u201d he blurted. \u201cIf it was, the new holovid rendering is more important than any game.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chisolm smiled, one finger on his data pad.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not more important than a game where you die if you lose.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d Braeden said, flicking dark particles from his fingertips. \u201cWe\u2019ll call it Life.\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Braeden looked at an apartment building so tall and narrow it seemed a drip of fluid leaking from the sky. But that was on the new side of the city. In the old quarter, some buildings still had stairs. He glanced at the skyline as his finger approached the call button to #3G. A slab of steel seemed to be in the way. He felt like Gabe reaching for the answer to Braeden\u2019s question: What did it do to you? Some things retain their influence even after you leave them. Nothing.<\/p>\n

He poked the button like sticking his finger in a hyena\u2019s eye to keep it from that baby. But the baby was gone by then. He poked the button, but sensed no response. No buzz, no vibration, no sound. So what? It wasn\u2019t a car. He didn\u2019t own a car.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d<\/p>\n

That woman\u2019s voice chilled him. Quite cordial. Hand still extended, he wanted to reach out and touch.<\/p>\n

\u201cI need to see you,\u201d he managed to say.<\/p>\n

Pause. Electrons pulse slowly along the lines of personal relationships.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll see you when I see my child again!\u201d<\/p>\n

She communicated the passion of finality. Nothing more to say. Nothing.<\/p>\n

Returning to the game lab, Braeden saw a delivery truck stop abruptly in front of a building with opaque windows. A three-wheeled bot rolled swiftly from the truck, package hidden inside. No matter. The gangs weren\u2019t choosy. Twenty or thirty young men and women, all wearing headpieces with halos, swarmed on the bot with screwdrivers and hammers. In moments, the bot lay on its side, wheels twitching, and the gangsters ran off with a box, disappearing in the alleyways.<\/p>\n

Braeden moved right along, passing scores of people, some cheering for the gang, some jeering, none calling the authorities. Only Braeden had to choke back tears to see that disappearing parcel. He still had his halo. Nothing else was left from his youth.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Braeden stood on a dirt road, looking up to a mountainside. Along with other soldiers in field gear, Gabe carefully walked down, searching inside every cave. <\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is the last one,\u201d he told the sergeant beside him. \u201cIf we just make it down to the road, we\u2019ll be safe.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

The sergeant read an instrument that he directed into the cavern.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cPrivate Gabe,\u201d he said, \u201cwe\u2019ve found some of them in here. We\u2019ll have to go in and get them. You first.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

Gabe clenched his jaws and shook his head. He seemed more angry than frightened.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t stand a hole like that. I\u2019d go crazy before anyone could shoot me. You\u2019ll have to court martial me before I go in there. You\u2019ll have to shoot me.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

As the disgusted sergeant shook his head and entered the cave, the entire face of the mountain exploded from within, and…<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…the holovid faded, the grey light evaporating. Braeden blinked, looking at Gabe. Both men wore street clothing. Chisolm sat behind the computer.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just can\u2019t play it,\u201d Gabe groaned. \u201cThat damn army sim keeps coming back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden felt a different type of disappointment.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was just like every other immersive holovid I\u2019ve been in. I thought you guys said it was ultrareal.\u201d<\/p>\n

After returning the mod to its box, Gabe walked away, heading for the fridge. He didn\u2019t need to recuperate from excess electro-reality. He had only been playing a game.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour play does produce that type of verisimilitude,\u201d Chisolm said, reading the game\u2019s emotional log. \u201cGabe\u2019s doesn\u2019t because the most important part of his psychology is the sim\u2014something fake. Your playing is real because it\u2019s driven by your real life.\u201d<\/p>\n

Not moving from the holovid realm, Braeden turned to Chisolm.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet me ready to go. I have more playing to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chisolm waved his hands before the electronic boxes. In the nerve-wracking computer, software circuits snapped open and closed like synapses. Braeden felt too real.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Light from the high beams extended like solid, transparent objects. No bump or hole disturbed the car, which seemed naturally part of the road. On a mission, Braeden held the wheel with one hand and the box with the other. But when the astonishing event of a child\u2019s crawling across the road accosted him, Braeden had an ugly impression that this had happened before. The worthy car seemed to stop itself, though Braeden pressed the brake pedal so hard his leg cramped.<\/i><\/p>\n

He ran out immediately, passing the hood, hearing the engine hiss. As the baby looked up to him, static now, Braeden felt that if only he could clutch the child against his chest, they both would be safe. But as Braeden reached down, the baby spoke. <\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cI know who you are.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

Startled, Braeden paused, and the gang arrived. From the nearby brush, several hyenas ran across the road, one grabbing the baby\u2019s jumper in its teeth, the rest leaping against Braeden. He could smell their odor and see their bared teeth, but they moved so quickly he could not respond, only cover his face. But he fell to the road without injury, and the pack ran away. <\/i><\/p>\n

Rising immediately, shaking off his vertigo, Braeden ran to the trunk and removed a hyena gun. Running through the foliage, he heard the child laugh. Perhaps he heard a gasp of terror.<\/i><\/p>\n

Arriving at the first mountainside cavern, Braeden directed the gun inside, and the indicator light blinked POSITIVE. Entering, he saw the hyenas walking calmly and the baby reclining passively in a crib with metal bars. As the creatures turned to Braeden, he raised his weapon and fired. Every animal fell. Running to the baby, he reached down to see a hyena cub in the child\u2019s jumper. As Braeden choked, \u201cWho are you?\u201d, the beast leapt against Braeden, knocking him to the cavern floor, smothering him with its fur. Braeden smelled the sick combination of hyena stench and baby powder. Not concerned with any infant\u2019s welfare, he tried to press the thing away because he was smothering. He felt foolish that his legs were twitching even as his head felt ready to implode. Trying to jerk his face aside and gasp in another breath, he encountered more smothering fur. Clutching at the body against his face with both hands, trying to rip it away, Braeden felt that he was crushing a baby, and released his hold. Devoid of air, he released his energy, his identity, accepting a pleasant repose, the most gratifying nap from a childhood in heaven….<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Air sweeter than a baby\u2019s breath filled him with satisfaction. He did not want to move, ever. Reclining, he sensed people above, not animals. Farther, he heard a city\u2019s sounds, traffic and construction. The sounds that caused him to open his eyes were scrabbling feet and grunts and bending metal. Looking up, he saw the halo gang attacking the ambulance. Removing their probes from Braeden\u2019s skull and chest, the EMS crew ran to their vehicle, weapons drawn.<\/p>\n

The ugly zip of their strike guns encouraged Braeden to sit. Feeling weak and woozy, he noticed Gabe and Chisolm kneeling beside him. One of them squeezed an inject-ampule against Braeden\u2019s arm, and his eyes popped open. Seeing the gangsters tussling with the med techs, Braeden rose and turned away, leaving flying halos behind. He felt energized and conflictual, the clean air filling his head, his feet twitching right along though his legs were weak and he was getting out of there before….<\/p>\n

Gabe and Chisolm grabbed either arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cMove easy, Braeden,\u201d said the former. \u201cIt\u2019s just the upper that makes you feel good.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden felt that his body lagged behind as his senses rushed ahead. He knew the feeling. And he knew to cooperate as his friends directed him to the game lab.<\/p>\n

Reclined on an air cot, he saw the entire sky, which had receded from reality, returning as a game version, small and squarish against the ceiling, an unconvincing patch. Before he passed out, Braeden heard voices, but could not assess their verity.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t believe I let you dump him in the alley,\u201d Gabe complained.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you want to bring them here? They resuscitated him, didn\u2019t they? You couldn\u2019t. And you\u2019re the one who nearly killed him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden was pleased to hear no more, accepting an uncomfortable sleep far preferable to pleasant dying.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Chisolm sat behind his computer crafting slushware with a circuit burner. At the camp stove on the plas table, Gabe poked sizzling veggies with a wooden fork. Neither man looked to Braeden, who stood just outside of the holovid array, just outside of their vision.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis game stinks,\u201d Braeden grumbled. \u201cI followed both routes, and still couldn\u2019t win.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to make the right decision first time,\u201d Chisolm said, adjusting the burner\u2019s color temp. \u201cJust like life, there are some things you can\u2019t retrieve.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought the beta wasn\u2019t supposed to be deadly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gabe gently slid a mushroom across the pan.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything stopped in you. Your brain, your heart. But you came back easy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wasn\u2019t so real that time,\u201d Braeden said, staring at the holovid\u2019s lenses. \u201cUntil I started dying.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chisolm stopped subvocalizing machine code in order to speak aloud.<\/p>\n

\u201cGabe\u2019s influence from the originating sim is too strong, causing you to OD on electro-reality. The simulation\u2019s protocol is stuck in the game routines. I don\u2019t know how it got in, but I need to get it out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden couldn\u2019t tell if he smelled Gabe\u2019s lunch or Chisolm\u2019s circuits. Wrinkling his nose, he turned away.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me know when you get it straight. I need to crash again.\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Standing in the sphere\u2019s grey light, Chisolm reached for his computer and for the mod on his neck, but could touch neither as the game began.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He walked along a rural road at night. Despite the darkness, he saw a baby crawling across the pavement. Since the baby was pixelated, Chisolm continued past. Arriving at the basement lab, he descended the alley stairs and entered, stepping beneath that stark light fixture. When he opened the door for a visitor, Gabe entered. Chisolm noticed the large pores on his facial skin, not a hint of stubble, saw that his dominant eye was more open than the other, heard a faint scraping stop as Gabe\u2019s shoe left the tile foyer and touched the main hall\u2019s carpet. Above, the chandelier\u2019s faceted elements, suspended by slender platinum chains, responded to Gabe\u2019s movement by shimmering. In an anxious gesture, Gabe reached to scratch the back of his neck, then flicked his fingertips. Particles of skin too small to see settled to the floor.<\/i><\/p>\n

Wondering of the superreal sensitivity that Gabe had brought, inspiring Chisolm to notice a dead cockroach\u2019s wing in the corner and feel a split fingernail snag on his pants, Chisolm studied Gabe, his play. As the men stepped across the lab and spoke, Gabe tried not to move backwards. He tried not to retreat and fall into a cavern that followed him. Whenever he came to the precipice, Gabe was stopped by a small, impassible barrier. Resembling a short length of leather belt, the barrier was not positioned near his feet, but near his brain.<\/i><\/p>\n

Gabe was not present when an unsolicited client arrived. A moderate man with a moustache so flat it seemed painted on, this wealthy individual proposed that Chisolm create a new game so convincing it killed. Chisolm accepted the challenge. He could not have envisioned a more satisfying situation. Just as some people live to play, whether the game is romance or business or politics, Chisolm lived to make a game so vital that one might play until death. Like life.<\/i><\/p>\n

Unable to succeed in his creativity with Gabe\u2019s military background corrupting play, Chisolm followed Gabe\u2019s path, which was personal history. Entering that marginal cavern, Chisolm saw Braeden leaving an apartment building, rejected by former family.<\/i><\/p>\n

Braeden proceeded to a bistro whose corners were as dark as a cave. Seated with a man whose moustache was so flat it seemed an application of paint, Braeden dully poked his dolphin salad with a fork.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t help me, I don\u2019t know where to turn,\u201d Braeden said. \u201cI don\u2019t exactly have any friends. Chisolm…it\u2019s just a game with him.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cNo one cares about Chisolm\u2019s stupid damn game except the stupid damn players,\u201d the moustache man grumbled quietly. \u201cGames that can kill you are all over the world. Try Russian roulette. But that video renderer is unprecedented. Chisolm has figured how to tap in to the player\u2019s experience and project it in a holovid so convincingly it might as well be real. No mil sim can do that.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd if I get you this technol, you\u2019ll…? I don\u2019t really want anything else. Ever since my wife took our baby because some of the old gang came over….\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2019ve heard that story, restraining order, blah. Look, I can bring your baby back. The courts can\u2019t do that. We\u2019re not burdened by the law. …You look just like your dad. I bet your son looked like you.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

After leaving his contact, Braeden did not immediately return to the game lab, but waited for Chisolm to conclude his adjustments. When Braeden next entered the holovid realm, Gabe joined him. Braeden did not care to judge Chisolm\u2019s odd expression, his unusual tone. Chisolm might have been OD\u2019ing on achievement.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe interference came from a skull mod the military implanted in Gabe to prevent him from returning to the sim\u2019s psychology. But I\u2019ve learned how to harness it, not just neutralize it, so now you two can play together.\u201d<\/p>\n

Braeden turned away from Chisolm\u2019s unconvincing smile. Chisolm wasn\u2019t good at smiling. He was good at the game.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d Braeden said. \u201cThis renderer is great.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m looking forward to something better than before,\u201d Gabe smiled.<\/p>\n

Gabe was better at smiling. He wasn\u2019t worth a damn at playing.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Light glaring from the chandelier caused Braeden to squint. Gabe didn\u2019t seem to notice. Stepping across the brocade carpet, Chisolm held forth a black box, his passage causing the chandelier to sway minutely.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been waiting for this,\u201d Braeden said while looking down to the box in his hands.<\/i><\/p>\n

Gabe\u2019s pate seemed to be pulsing due to the shimmering light on his nearly bald scalp. In this day and age, he could have fixed that for a few dollars. Gabe didn\u2019t care to fix his head. Not the surface.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cHow many children can we save with this?\u201d Braeden asked.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cOne,\u201d Chisolm curtly replied. \u201cBut you can also lose him. And yourselves. Now we\u2019ll learn who we are: alien invader, universal prophet, or migrant worker.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

Gabe led the way, but Braeden drove.<\/i><\/p>\n

*<\/i><\/p>\n

Every subtle rise and fall of the car revealed new members of the roadside brush: a brilliant, blooming lantana; lengths of prickly vines; a sprouting acorn the height of a crawling baby. In houses denoted by tiny panes of light, families calmly proceeded in life, not having to abrogate a past horror or avoid some upcoming doom. <\/i><\/p>\n

Gabe cranked the handle, lowering the window enough for fresh air to enter. It smelled like the breath of an animal.<\/i><\/p>\n

In nature\u2019s greater realm, crawling babies are animals.<\/i><\/p>\n

The box lay on the seat between them. Braeden considered it.<\/i><\/p>\n

As Gabe turned on the radio, Braeden noticed the illuminated panel\u2019s grey light. Wondering of the headlights\u2019 hue, which he had never noticed, Braeden looked up to see an animal creeping across the road. A human animal.<\/i><\/p>\n

The screech of slammed braking seemed to come from the speakers. Gabe grabbed the dashboard with one hand and the door handle with the other. The box slipped to the floor as the men exited together.<\/i><\/p>\n

No movement showed in the child except for panting. Gabe\u2019s pate beneath the chandelier had seemed more active. Though Gabe stood nearest, the baby looked up to Braeden, and his lips began to tremble.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know who you are,\u201d the child said as Braeden lifted him.<\/i><\/p>\n

His jumper was damp from the dewy grass. Stiff from apprehension, the baby could not settle in Braeden\u2019s arms. Braeden just wanted to comfort him. As Braeden turned to the car, he faced the pack.<\/i><\/p>\n

Streaming from the dark foliage, countless hyenas rushed to the roadway, overwhelming the three people. The scratching of those scores of claws filled Braeden\u2019s senses as he bent, protecting the baby. Though Gabe lifted the black box and began ferociously beating at the animals, he could not affect their mass. Every animal he struck fell dead, but more ran past, flowing as effortlessly as electrons. Ignoring Gabe\u2019s futile violence, the hyenas leapt against Braeden, who fell to the asphalt, snouts and paws thrust against his head and arms until the baby was forced free. As the animals ran over him, scratching his neck and face, Braeden with his chin on the pavement saw a pale figure dangling from a hyena\u2019s mouth, suspended by soft clothing.<\/i><\/p>\n

Black box raised, Gabe charged after the pack. Braeden followed after removing the hyena gun from the car\u2019s trunk. Both men ran across the flat land, stumbling over prickly vines and blooming weeds, exhibiting a stressed breathing not seen in the hyenas. <\/i><\/p>\n

Above his own panting and Gabe\u2019s gasping, Braeden heard a youthful laugh, a blurt of sudden joy, he hoped.<\/i><\/p>\n

Braeden felt that his mind or spirit rushed ahead while his weak, ineffective body lagged behind. But he did not slow, and did not pause as he and Gabe arrived at the pack. The animals were so numerous that they warmed the air, all milling about a crib with steel bars. Instead of providing a safe space, the crib kept the baby out, excluding the crawling child from reaching a mattress as firm and comforting as a father\u2019s embrace.<\/i><\/p>\n

The hyenas did not respond until Gabe began beating them to death with the box and Braeden shot so many with his gun that their bodies covered the land like a brocade carpet. But the effort exhausted Gabe, all that warfare with no end, no exit, and Braeden\u2019s gun ran dry. As more hyenas appeared from the brush, the men found themselves retreating. Not hearing or seeing the child, they ran toward the mountains, snapping teeth one baby length behind.<\/i><\/p>\n

Rushing Braeden\u2019s feet slipped on the rocky incline, causing him to reach down for balance. The gritty mountainside abraded his fingers, but he did not drop the gun. Ahead, Gabe scrambled upward until arriving at a cavern he could not pass. Stopping at the dark hole, he seethed wordlessly while looking past Braeden. The men had run so far around the mountain that the car was clearly visible just beyond. If they could only slip to the road and drive away, they could continue with their mission and save one child. But the hyenas had relentlessly followed. They extended down the slopes, approaching at the future\u2019s implacable rate.<\/i><\/p>\n

Settling against a lichenous rock that stained his pants, Braeden reached behind to remove the spine mod from his neck, jamming it into the gun\u2019s chamber. As those thousand glaring eyes arrived, Braeden began firing, feeling no recoil, hearing only an abstract sound of violence, watching every hyena drop away but one. The last was pale and soft with an active expression. This creature lived for the game. By using the game to attack Braeden and Gabe, the beast became an invader, its tactics alien.<\/i><\/p>\n

Braeden pulled the trigger, but again the gun was empty. At the cavern entry, Gabe held on with one hand to avoid falling behind. With the other hand, he hurled the black box, striking the final creature on the head. As the box split open, a slip of paper fell out, a death certificate, male. Death did not dissuade the future, did not repel the past.<\/i><\/p>\n

Beneath the full moon\u2019s grey light, this part of the mountain appeared spherical. Braeden and Gabe would not leave until concluding the game. In activating this realm, the beast had conquered the world of perception. But his murderous play was freakish, foreign. As the creature ran up to prove the men losers, Braeden turned to his friends.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is the best game.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

They sat in the living room of his apartment. People occupied all the chairs and sofa. The grey crib was empty, for the baby crawled across the floor, toward the open entry door.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cWe swiped it from this pale guy,\u201d said a halo man. \u201cHis stuff is so far out, he\u2019s from another planet.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

The creature remained in midair as Braeden kept his finger on the pause button.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m supposed to pick the old lady up from work and take the kid to the zoo. But this is great. So lifelike.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

He reached for another toke but couldn\u2019t find it on the sofa. His hand hit only vinyl. Two feet away and he couldn\u2019t reach it. He was busy playing.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cWatch the baby,\u201d he told his friends, thumbs poised over the controller, a little blackish box. \u201cHe\u2019s playing right there. Don\u2019t let him get away.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

Returning to the game, Braeden saw his baby crawl to the edge of the street, heard a gasp of terror that sounded like a laugh on this stressed level of decimated emotion. <\/i><\/p>\n

Though the headlights continued past without slowing, the remainder of the world turned silent and static, shocked into a deathly pause. Dropping the box, Braeden ran to the door, becoming a migrant worker struggling to better his family, losing eternally.<\/i><\/p>\n

Arriving at the entry, Braeden stood beside Gabe as the beast approached. Gabe now held on with both hands, squeezing the cavern\u2019s rocky edge, pulled backwards by irrefutable darkness.<\/i><\/p>\n

The creature came for Gabe first, moving at an alien velocity. The idea of doom rushed ahead at the rate of emotion, inundating the men, though reality slowed the beast to the speed of bodies.<\/i><\/p>\n

Braeden only had to slip past and run to the car to be safe. Far beyond, at the past\u2019s impossible distance, Braeden saw the child at the roadway\u2019s edge. But the creature stood in the way.<\/i><\/p>\n

Braeden grabbed the death certificate. It might have been a map. Gabe knew the correct play. A universal prophet could not have delivered a more perfect truth.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t go back,\u201d he groaned, voice strained from his saving effort. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing left. Nothing.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

As Braeden loaded the certificate into his breech, Gabe reached to his spine, but continued into his skull, removing the barrier that separated him from his greatest fear. Braeden aimed the gun at the creature as Gabe pressed the modifier against his neck. Losing his grip with this action, Gabe fell into the waiting darkness as Braeden pulled the trigger and the mountainside imploded, shards of reality filling the space with an end game that excluded winners. The third loser tumbled down the mountain, to the road.<\/i><\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t know where he was. The asphalt was just another hard surface to him. He could not distinguish kitchen floors from concrete driveways. He knew his family, but little of their motives. He knew something of lights. When his daddy came home, he would pull himself up to the window ledge and laugh at the headlights. He knew they brought joy.<\/p>\n

These headlights made his feelings explode. Before they arrived, he understood that he had taken the wrong path. The cry that came to him might have been enlightenment. Too late to return. Lights glimmered like the twinkle in his father\u2019s eyes.<\/p>\n

He only wanted to play.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

E N D<\/p>\n

—<\/p>\n

H. C. Turk is a self-taught writer, sound artist, and visual artist living in Florida. His fiction has been published by Villard, Tor, and\u00a0The Chicago Review.<\/i>\u00a0His sound pieces have appeared on numerous web-sites and radio programs.<\/span><\/p>\n

Fiction at Amazon:\u00a0http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/-\/e\/B001JSBKB0<\/a><\/span><\/div>\n
Music at Bandcamp:\u00a0http:\/\/hcturk.bandcamp.com<\/a><\/span><\/div>\n
Home page:\u00a0http:\/\/hcturk.com<\/a><\/span><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Each breath caused the light to change. Paces above the men, a cut-glass chandelier trembled with their speaking. A team of artisans had crafted the light piece by cleaving glass with diamond chisels. Photons flickered like electrons through a circuit board. Standing on the silk carpet, Braeden reached for salvation.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t seem fragile,\u201d he said to Chisolm while accepting the box.<\/p>\n

To Braeden, they seemed exactly opposite. Chisolm was pale and soft with an active voice and expression. The box was dense, black, and inert.<\/p>\n

READ MORE.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":171,"featured_media":6449,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,218,200,219],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6216"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/171"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6216"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6216\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6453,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6216\/revisions\/6453"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6449"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6216"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6216"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6216"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}