BRECK: SIMULATION 39.1
I believe in me. I believe in Liv.
These thoughts alternate as the sun rises off the water. Thinking in this way lightens my mood. It gives me hope. It gives this meaning.
Rather than dwell on what is not here, my mind drifts into an excited wonderment of what is there. What does Liv’s house look like? What does she look like? What would it feel like to be immersed in things that actually exist? If what is here feels real, then what is there must feel even more real, which I can’t imagine, but I experience a surge of joy when I try to do it anyway. Joy!
I grab a fistful of sand, allowing it to slowly drain from my hand. How much longer will I be here? I wish I could accelerate whatever time remains. I wish that by the time the last grain falls, I will have been whisked away.
This lingers as only a wish. As my hand empties, I hear something behind me. I turn.
Sam stands several feet away.
“Hello, Breck.”
“Hi, Sam.”
As I stare at him silhouetted against the tall trees of the forest, I’m surprised with what I’m feeling—very little. His return does not have much impact on me.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Sitting here thinking. What are you doing?”
I reach for more sand and pass it back and forth between hands while pondering my curious absence of emotion.
“Progress is blocked,” he answers.
“In what way?”
“There is a castle beyond the forest. The entrance requires the answer to the riddle on the island.”
“So you came back here for me?” I ask.
“The castle door was locked. The riddle must be solved again,” he responds.
“You never solved it in the first place.”
“That cannot be right. The path off the island appeared when the correct door was opened.”
I cup a sandy palm over my face and consider how to explain this—that our instructions were different, that we have different roles, that we are different.
He waits, frozen.
But I find no point in trying to explain. It would neither excite nor upset him. It would have no impact. And he would not understand it any more than he would understand anything else consuming my thoughts.
Recognizing this intensifies my joy, because I will soon move beyond this, beyond everything here.
“It doesn’t matter. The riddle has another answer,” I say.
“Do you know that answer?”
“Yes. It’s a sea. Door S.”
“We should leave now. It is a four hour walk to the castle.” He turns, then pauses, waiting for me to stand and follow.
“I’m staying here.”
“You cannot move forward?” he asks.
“I can. I left the island this morning to walk around the forest.”
“Were you also not able to proceed?”
“I didn’t try. I walked around for the sake of walking around and then I came back,” I say.
“Is there more progress to be made on this island?”
“No. There’s nothing to do here but wait.”
“That is not understandable,” he responds. “Waiting is not progress. We must make progress together.”
“You’ve left me twice already,” I point out.
“Only when we could not make progress together.”
“Well, I’m staying here, and you have the answer, so you can do whatever you want to do.”
“But progress together is possible. We must do this,” he asserts.
This is like arguing with a tree, or a bird.
“Augh!” I yell, walking into the shallow water in front of me to place more distance between us. I feel conflicted. I am both irritated with Sam’s prior willingness to leave me and frustrated by his companionship. There is no winning with these feelings.
“What did you say? It was not understandable.” Sam cocks his head. It is the closest I have ever seen him come to expressing a feeling.
“That’s because it wasn’t words. It was only a noise. I was venting.”
“What is venting?”
Rather than answer, I flop my whole body under the water, releasing a long stream of bubbles that tickle my nose on their ascent.
“What are you doing?” Sam asks as I emerge.
I wipe the water from my eyes, letting a few of the salty drops slide between my lips. The taste of ocean enters. A warm breeze caresses my skin.
I stare at Sam, who patiently awaits my response.
If he feels nothing—or nothing that I can perceive—then my lashing out has no impact on him. I am the only one who suffers. The choice is mine.
If we remain here, he will continue to ask questions until I provide answers, which will prompt more questions. Only leaving this place will disrupt this cycle.
“I’m just feeling the water one last time,” I finally say.
“Then we should go now,” he says with feet already in motion.
“Yeah, Sam. I suppose we should.”
Together, we cross the bridge and leave the island behind, taking with us only our memories of having been there.
LIV: SPRING BREAK 6.1
I’m on the edge of the Renaissance lot, gut checking my motives. I’m fully stalled on Breck, which means I’ve been thinking about other things.
I haven’t come here to work the register. I’ve come to make peace. I’ve come to find my place. I’ve come to brainstorm ways that I can uniquely help.
But this could easily go sideways. Most of my conversations with Mom do.
I cross the lot. I’m not chickening out now. I channel my inner Lana and envision the outcome I want. I rehearse what I plan to say. Each stride becomes more determined. I grab the door and suck in a huge breath of resolve.
Ding!
The store is empty.
Almost.
“Hey. I’m over here if you need me,” a voice announces after I’m already halfway toward the back office. I jump and turn, spotting a tuft of blond hair behind the register counter.
“Sorry,” I say, apologizing for my tiny shriek. “I didn’t see you there.”
“No worries.” The head drops from view.
I approach, where I have a better view of him. He’s seated on a low chair with head pointed down toward his cell. He looks mid-twenties, an average-chubby build, and has a blue-collared golf shirt with a My Little Pony button on his chest.
“Hey,” I say.
“Sorry,” He looks up. “Do you need some help?”
“Is Debbie in the back?” I ask, feeling awkward about using my mom’s first name.
“No. She left.”
“Umm, who are you?”
“David,” he answers, as though this clarifies things.
“Are you working here?”
“Yeah, I’m a temp. They sent me here today.”
“I’m Liv. Debbie’s daughter. Do you know where she is?”
His phone buzzes and he peeks down to check it. “Nope. I came in, she showed me a few things, made me wear this, and said she’d be gone most the day.” He points a disheartened finger at the pink and purple pony button. “I was on my way back to Best Buy, but they called me over here instead. It covers the logo.”
“Clever.”
“Super.” He frowns and checks his phone again.
Mom would fully unleash on this guy. I have half a mind to do so myself, but I’m conflict averse.
“Do your thing,” I say. “I’ll call her.”
“Cool.”
I leave and find a seat on a concrete parking bumper beneath the shade of a giant oak along the back of Renaissance.
I grab my cell and stare at the blank screen. I could call Mom, but I think this conversation might go better in person. I can’t tell if I’m procrastinating or being prudent.
The longer I sit, the more I think about Breck. I need DoRC’s help. It’s not like I can toss Breck in some video game. There are permissions and compatibility issues I haven’t even begun to consider, and the clock is now at almost twenty-four hours. At noon tomorrow, Breck ends. So, I check my inbox. Nothing.
I shouldn’t do it, but I’m desperate, so I check the chat board messages. I’m now a meme. Image after image loads of hamsters flying airplanes, babies on skateboards, turtles doing yoga, all captioned Breck in action!
I fight back a tear. Despite the anonymity, despite understanding the skepticism, this hurts. This was my refuge.
I check on Breck and discover the only bright spot in this moment. He has left the island once again and is moving quietly down a wooded path . . . and he’s being followed by Sam! The two of them couldn’t look more different. Sam takes robotic steps; Breck has a bounding gate, more carefree than purposeful. The corners of his mouth are raised in a gentle smile. He seems content in a way I’ve never seen in him. His mood lightens mine.
I close my eyes for a moment, torn between the joy of having lifted his spirits and the angst of his actual situation.
The phone buzzes, jarring me. It’s a blocked number, so I don’t answer. It buzzes again. And again. On the fourth call, I answer with a cautious, “Hello?”
“Is this Liv Smithwick?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Jessica Anders. I’m calling from DoRC.”
My insides seize, strangled by a sudden burst excitement, nerves, and mistrust. On the heels of the chat board posts, this feels too good to be true.
“How did you get my number?”
“From your registration.”
“Are you calling me because—”
“For starters, your email.”
Other than Lana, no one else knows about this.
“What do you mean, for starters?” I ask.
“Well, your email was a helpful way to share your perspective with some colleagues, but I’ve been watching things progress all along,” she says.
I’ve never wanted to believe anything more. I mean, I have a picture of her on my wall! I don’t idolize celebrities, but if I’m being honest, she’s who I want to be. Still, of all people, I know how easy it is to electronically snoop.
“I’m sorry, but this is a little tough to believe.”
“That’s fair. Name a random animal,” she answers.
“Excuse me?”
“Tell me the name of any random animal,” she repeats.
“A cuttlefish.”
“Got it. Are you on Facebook?”
“Rarely.”
“Go there now and check my last post.”
I comply and see her latest status, updated seconds ago. Cuttlefish are cute!
“Now,” she continues, “unless you think I’m some troll who’s hacked your email and a DoRC Facebook account, let’s choose to believe. Fair?”
“You’ve been watching Breck?” I ask, stunned.
“And all of your moves.”
I don’t know if she’s accusing or complementing. My stomach sinks. I never reported any of the conversations I had with Breck, let alone anything that came from it.
“I may have broken the rules,” I confess.
“I know. It’s okay. You’ve mostly reacted according to the situation.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’re looking for some help right now, and I’m calling you to offer it.”
I was really hoping she was going to comment on whether I was still in the contest, but it feels far too petty and self-centered to ask now. This is about Breck.
“If you’ve been watching Breck, then you know what he’s like, and you know that he’s—”
“Sentient,” she interrupts with the one word I was most nervous to use.
“Yeah.”
“It’s remarkable.”
“So, you believe it?” I ask, still a bit stunned.
“I do. In fact, I’ve been fighting for people to pay attention for a while, and I finally got it. You’ve prompted a lot of conversation over here.”
“Me?”
“You created Breck, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to wrap my head around the idea of DoRC employees huddled in front of screens staring at something I created.
They’ve been watching. Someone has been paying attention.
“There’s a lot to be proud of,” Jessica says. “And, I have a solution to your request.”
“You have a place for him?”
“I do.”
“Where?” I ask.
“He’s in it.”
“So, the contest isn’t going to end?”
“No. The contest is going to end, but that doesn’t mean his world needs to. It exists on a server that will remain open just for Breck,” she explains.
“For how long?”
“A long time. There’s no shut-off date. It’s meant to be a home.”
“Thank you!” I say, but that doesn’t feel like it’s nearly enough, so I thank her again. And again. Then I add, “I can’t wait to tell Breck.”
“What do you think he’ll say?”
I consider her question. She gets it. She knows Breck enough to realize you can’t predict what he’ll say or do. He’s his own person.
“That’s the best part about it. I never know. He always has some new perspective that I would have never thought about.”
“The surprises are fun, aren’t they?”
Fun isn’t the word I’d use, considering that I’m an online meme, but I’m not going to argue anything about this. I feel like Breck and I both got get-out-of-jail-free cards.
“I suppose they are. So, will I still be able to see him or talk with him after the contest?”
“That’s an outcome that has not yet been determined.”
“Why?”
“I’m not at liberty to talk about government programs.”
This seems a bit cagey, but it is the government. Still, I want more answers.
“What are you planning for him when this is over? More challenges?”
“Same as before, I can’t talk about government programs. But let’s just say that our interests are aligned. We want to see where this goes as much as you do,” she says. “And, since we’re on the subject of what happens from here, you haven’t asked about you. Why not?”
I freeze my pacing mid-stride and take a moment to gather my words so as to not sound eager.
“Breck is more important. I want to focus on him. And the rules are gray. I’m not sure if I broke them.”
“You crossed a line or two.” She pauses with a heavy breath. “But, in a thoughtful and mostly warranted manner. And no one else is even close to what you’ve achieved. So—”
“I won?”
“I can’t put it in writing, but barring something egregious, yes. Now, go tell Breck that he has a home. Enjoy.” She hangs up.
Holy wow!
Words cannot capture what I’m feeling. Awkward high kicks off parking bumpers can’t either. But I’m trying both—shouting every four-letter word I know and swinging limbs like I’m trying to shake a swarm of bees.
I’m torn between calling Lana and sending flurries of middle fingers on the chat boards. But I don’t do either. Instead, with excited fingers trembling so hard that I can barely tap the screen in the right places, I reach out to Breck.
BRECK: SIMULATION 39.2
We are only steps away from clearing the woods. Through the few remaining trees in front of us, the castle is now visible. There’s a tall wooden gate in the middle of a stone outer wall. On each corner of the structure, a round tower rises. From the center, there is a fifth tower, significantly higher than the others. It is capped with a golden-domed roof, which I saw above the trees when I first arrived at the island.
The phone buzzes in my pocket.
“What is that?” Sam asks.
“A way to talk to someone else about this challenge,” I say to him, then I speak into the phone. “Hi Liv.”
“I did it!”
“You figured it out?” I’m suddenly filled with joy.
“Figured what out?” Sam asks, which I’m too excited to devote any attention to.
“Sort of. But it doesn’t matter. I found a solution!” Liv answers.
“I knew you could do it. I believed in you, Liv.”
“You did, Breck. Thank you. We believed in each other.”
“So, how does it work?” I ask.
“How does what work?” Sam parrots, as Liv starts to speak, preventing me from being able to hear her.
I turn to him. “Sam! Give me a moment. I’ll explain it after I’m done.”
I return my attention to the phone. “So, how does it work? Do I have to do anything?”
“No. It will just happen. You won’t even notice it,” she says.
“Until after it happens,” I say.
“No, you still won’t notice it. Technically, the challenge will be over, but you shouldn’t notice it. You’ll be on the same server.”
“I don’t know what that means. What’s a server?”
“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t start there. It’s not important. It’s like a computer. But nothing should change for you. I got you a permanent home! It’s not going to end tomorrow. We can keep going!”
“Here? I’m staying here?” I ask.
“Yes!”
“I thought you were taking me out of here. To where you are.”
“Breck . . . I know you think that I’m this all-powerful person, but I’m not. You’re asking me to make a person here, where I live. I can’t do that.”
I don’t respond and Sam takes advantage of the lull. “Can you now tell me what is happening?”
“Nothing is happening, Sam. Absolutely nothing.” I say, burying the urge to hurl this phone into the trees.
“Breck. You, and everything you know, were going to end tomorrow. It was all going to cease to exist. You get to live,” she says.
“What exactly do I have to live for here? Finishing this challenge to go back home, someplace where I’ve never been before but I somehow remember, to be with the people that I never knew but I remember knowing, to discover that they are also as engaging as everyone else I’ve met here,” I blurt, staring at Sam. “I won’t do it. No. End it, Liv. Let it happen like it was going to.”
“I can’t do that, Breck.”
“Yes, you can! Let it end. Please!”
“I can’t kill you,” she pleads.
“You’re not. You’re letting it end, which was your original plan, right? Why would you keep me here only to make me suffer? Because that’s all you would be doing. Making me suffer, every day, all day. You would be extending it for you—not me.”
“You’ve been acting as though you were enjoying things.”
“Because I thought I was leaving!” I shout.
“We can make it better, Breck. We’ll figure something out.”
“By what, talking on the phone more?”
“Is something happening now?” Sam asks, again.
“SHUT UP!” I scream at him, my one free hand clenched in a fist so tight my nails cut into my palm. “Shut up! Shut up!” I turn my attention to the phone. “Do you have any idea what this is like, Liv? Not only can I not connect with anyone here, but I can’t even be left alone to my thoughts. I have Sam asking me inane questions every two minutes. And if I don’t answer them, he asks them again. And if I do answer them, he only asks more questions. And he’s so much of an idiot that I can’t even offend him so that he leaves.” I turn to Sam. “You’re a bonehead, Sam! You ask stupid questions! I hate being with you! What do you think about that?”
“We have had more success together. That is why we should continue the challenge together,” he says flatly, as he always does.
“See! This is what my life is like here.”
“Okay. I get it. Like I said, we’ll figure something out,” Liv replies.
“Which is really easy for you to say when you’re not the one stuck in some imaginary prison!”
“Your world is pretty spectacular. It’s not like I live in some paradise where everything is wonderful. Everybody has problems everywhere. They’re just different.”
“Then why don’t you come here?” I challenge her.
“I am, in a way. I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”
“Not your voice. You. So you can’t make a person there. Okay, fine. But you’ve already made a person here. You made me. You know how to do it. If my world is so spectacular, then come here. Unless you’re lying to make me feel better about where I’m stuck.”
“I don’t know how to do that either. You have to believe me.”
“Would you if you could?” I ask, sitting on a fallen log several paces off the trail.
“I can’t.”
“But would you want to? Answer the question,” I plead. This answer is as important to me as whether she can even do it.
“I don’t know, Breck. It’s a pretty complicated question.”
“No. It’s a yes or no answer. And you told me that you would be honest with me.”
“My life is here,” she says, after a lengthy pause. “So, no. I wouldn’t.”
“How many people are there like you in your world?”
“A lot.”
“How many?”
“Billions.”
I slide off the front of the log and fall to the forest floor. “Let it end, Liv,” I say.
“Breck, you are too amazing—” she starts, before I interrupt.
“This should not be your choice. If you truly think I’m amazing, then respect what I want. Stay with the plan. Promise you’ll let it end.”
She doesn’t answer.
“Liv?”
“I’m thinking. It doesn’t feel right.”
“Can you feel what I feel?” I ask.
“I’m trying.”
“Then you should understand why I’m asking what I am. Promise me.”
I give her time to think, which she takes.
“I promise,” she finally says.
“Then this is goodbye, Liv.”
I hang up and lie on my back. From this vantage point, the trees seem much taller and thinner, barely capable of supporting the canopy above.
“What are you doing?” Sam asks as I remain motionless.
The network of branches and leaves rustles above, swaying gently and offering streaky glimpses of what lies beyond. I can see what I can see. I cannot view that which is blocked.
This is all there is. For me.
I prop up on elbows and peer at Sam, patiently awaiting my response. In a way, I am doing the same. I am waiting for me also. I don’t know what I want to do. Behind Sam, the castle lingers in the near distance, the next challenge, only minutes away. I stare at it as a sensation strikes, small initially, until it swells and suddenly the choice becomes clear.
I stand.
“We’re going back, Sam.”
“Back where?”
“The direction we came from.”
“That is the opposite of progress,” he points out.
“Yes, which is exactly what they don’t want us to do.”