Haptic

Part 1: Kendric

The sun shines through the classroom window, reflecting off the corner desk and casting a thin strip of light down her neck. I’m surprised that the desk can create a reflection at all, given how seldom it’s cleaned; Bishop High has never been a mecca for quality janitorial talent. I shouldn’t be staring, but I feel like I can’t help myself. Jasmine, a girl like her, has never given me a second thought.

From my right, I hear, “Kendric’s got himself a crush! Why don’t you just draw her in that dumb little black book of yours? Everyone knows it’s the closest you’ll ever get!” The room erupts into laughter, and I’ve never felt smaller. Since I was little, my classmates have ignored me; people just don’t seem interested in getting to know me. As sick as it sounds, when they tease me, I at least feel noticed. Anytime Mrs. Ryder leaves the classroom unattended like this, my body kicks into fight or flight mode. I start imagining the awful things people will say to me; it’s usually unwarranted, though, as they typically just pretend I’m not here.

This particularly mortifying insult was hurled by Brennon Riggs, an objectively popular guy, and my biggest fan. He’s a fan of insulting me, chipping away at me until I’m noticeably hurt. I’ll never understand why they all seem to get so much joy from it. He’s right about the book, though, I guess: It’s like a portable safe house. As long as I don’t look up from the page, everything seems to be okay. I write down the ideas that I have that I don’t get to share with others, I doodle to pass the time, write what I consider poetry, and sometimes find myself just mindlessly scribbling because I’m out of ideas but don’t want to look up.

I snap out of my self-conscious daze long enough to hear Brennon bragging, “I started mining them before it got big. I’ve got almost 10 Bitcoin now, and they’re up to two-grand each! I’ll probably sell some and throw the biggest party this podunk town has ever seen! Everyone in Bishop will be there! Oh, not you, Kendric.”

My right-hand scrawls a looped line from the top of the page to the bottom.

Part 2: Annica

“Please hurry, I can’t be late today!”

The cabbie seems disinterested in hearing out my request as he glances at me in the rearview mirror for a brief moment. I’ve slogged through 4 years of college, got my Bachelor’s degree, and served my time in a two-year back-end engineering internship – only to wind up here, in this taxi cab, late to my first day of work at Aurora, the largest virtual reality company in the world.

As we approach Aurora, I’ve already paid the cabbie and step out of the still-in-motion vehicle, snapping my heel in the process. I totter to the enormous building’s entrance, Joan of Arc walking away from a battle lost, but a war won.

I walk inside with my head held high, but a man on the other side of the door, presumably my new boss, reminds me that I’m late on my first day. Before I can give him an excuse, the man tells me to follow him, neglecting to introduce himself. At the end of the hall is an elevator that we take to the twenty-first floor in silence. Unlike the extravagant lobby I found myself in on the ground floor, complete with towering statues of the company’s founder and gold-laden furniture, this floor looks comparatively unfinished. The walls are grey, there are no windows, and cubicles are stuffed side by side in the hundreds.

We arrive at a man’s desk. “Jerry, this is Annabelle; she’ll be shadowing you today,” my guide asserts. I guess it’s fitting that he doesn’t know my name since he didn’t seem concerned with me knowing his.

I sit with Jerry for several hours as he teaches me the ins and outs of the software. It’s a simulated world that Aurora plans to sell to universities for experimentation. The software can be used to simulate anything; weather events, diseases, wars, you name it. He oversees a relatively dull part of the world he manages by himself; a small town called Bishop. It hasn’t been used for any significant experiments yet, but Jerry keeps the city running smoothly just in case it’s ever needed.

“Do you want to play with it a bit?” he asks, “We can make it a few degrees warmer than they expected it to be tomorrow; it’s pretty hard to mess anything up.” I begin altering Bishop’s weather code to make it warmer, but it isn’t as easy as Jerry made it sound. Just as I’m finishing up, the man who showed me to Jerry’s desk reappears. “Hey Jerry, can you come with me real quick?” he says. “You got this, Annica?” Jerry asks. Eager to impress, I absent-mindedly blurt “yes.”

Shortly after they walk away, the screen flashes red for a split second. Part of the code that Jerry helped me with disappears. My heart begins racing, I don’t know what to do, I’ve already made a bad impression, and I can’t afford to mess this up. I can see Jerry and the boss through his office door; it looks like Jerry is about to head this way again. I stare at the code in a panic; Jerry opens the door and begins walking this way; against my better judgment, I click “save.”

Jerry sits back down, “how’d it go?” he asks. “Great!” I lie.

Oh, God. What have I done?

Part 3: System Failure

“This is Todd Ferrell, with today’s weather. Bishop may be experiencing an unexpected heat-wave. Temperatures are 30 degrees higher than expected today, reaching a historical high for January, at 85 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Mom always listens to talk radio on the way to school. She always jokes that the weatherman gets paid just to make stuff up. Today, I think she may be right.

I get out of the car and take a deep breath. I’m really not looking forward to Mrs. Ryder’s class today. As I approach the school, I notice that our sign reads “St. Bishop High School.” Great, either they changed our school’s name overnight, or I’m going crazy now too.

“Yo, Kendric!” I hear from the right side of the room as I enter. I tense up, awaiting an insult that never comes. “What’s up, man?” Brennon asks in a friendly tone that left me oddly uncomfortable. I’ve never been as terrified to speak. I mumble, “Uhm, I’m good.”

The door opens, and a beautiful young woman in a vibrant fruit-print dress enters the classroom. “Alright, class, so sorry I’m late. Mr. Ryder needed to take his truck to the shop, so I had to take him to work.”

Mr. Ryder? Why is this woman acting like she’s Mrs. Ryder? Mrs. Ryder is an old lady who would never wear such a flashy outfit.

I open my book to write this down, but I’m greeted with an ominous message that I didn’t write.

“We need to talk. Write back.

~Annica”

Part 4: Presence

I should consider myself lucky that I was able to realize that this Kendric kid is suspicious. Come on, kid. Write back! He looks freaked out right now; I guess I would be too.

Another couple of minutes passes, and he finally begins to write! I switch my screen from world view to HTML. Nestled between two sets of double brackets is Kendric’s reply. A message in a virtual bottle, sent between two worlds. I wonder how he must feel right now? If I knew more about this code, I could probably easily find out.

“Who are you?” he asks. A fair question; one I should probably navigate carefully. Jerry will only be on lunch for another thirty minutes. He still hasn’t noticed what I’ve done; he thinks I just made it too hot, but I can tell there is more going on. If I say to this kid, “you live in a simulation,” he might completely lose it. Based on what I can tell, he has emotions that are no different than mine. But what other explanation is there? I can understand enough about his code to know that he isn’t religious, and I don’t particularly want to impersonate a deity anyway.

Time is not on my side, so I settle on “a friend.”

I tell him, “I’m sorry, but I can’t explain everything; it wouldn’t make sense anyway. I know that you can tell strange things are going on around you, though. I need you to begin writing them down as you notice them. I can help. And I have a gift for you, turn the page.”

He has no reason to trust me. From his perspective, I’m just magical words on a page. But he’s the only person that can help me, so I had to sweeten the pot.

Part 5: Field of View

A gift? I turn the page.

“hTcOAHETervaoWLEh8Tg7s2Eyl6dYoACK0”

Is that…Is that a bitcoin address? More letters appear on the page, one after another, just like magic.

“Username: Kendric462

Password: 011235813”

Mrs. Ryder is out of the room, so I pull out my phone to research popular bitcoin wallets, but there’s already one on my screen. Piece by piece, I input the information from my book; “Continue.” Like a jackpot I don’t remember winning, right here in front of me sits $20,000 in bitcoin. My hands sweat profusely, my heart is racing, and my vision goes blurry for a second.

Before I can pass out, I hear her voice. “Hey, Kendric!” It’s Jasmine; I don’t think she has ever actually spoken to me before. “I can’t wait for your party this weekend.” She smiles. I smile back. How could I ever help someone “fix” this? I’ve apparently got a party to plan.

Part 6: Simulator Sickness

I’ve never been to a party before, much less hosted one. My parents are gone, and there are hundreds of rowdy teenagers packed into my house and backyard; music is blaring, and, honestly, I don’t feel comfortable here. This isn’t me.

Jasmine is here. One of her friends just told me that she was looking for me. I want to look for her too, but at the same time, I just want everything to go back to normal. I’ve not looked in my little black book since it started talking to me, and I’ve spent most of my sudden riches to make tonight happen. I never did update it on any of the changes. I never mentioned Mrs. Ryder, or St. Bishop, or the fact that everyone likes me all of a sudden. Before I get too distracted, I hear her shout my name from behind me. “Kendric!”

In the time it takes me to turn around, I forget about the notebook, along with my apprehension. Jasmine is the only thing on my mind at this moment. But Jasmine isn’t there when I turn around. The walls start closing in around me, and I begin to feel sick. The party-goers disappear one by one, and their mess along with them. After vomiting, I run upstairs to retrieve my notebook. The stairs turn to jello beneath my feet, but I’m able to crawl to the top.

I make it to the notebook and open it up. I flip through page after page of missed messages from my mysterious pen-pal. This must have been more important than I cared to admit. I finally turn to the last page, which only reads, “sorry, kid.”

I look up, and I’m back in class. The boring old Mrs. Ryder announces she’s stepping out for a moment, and everyone begins talking to one another. Except for me, of course, but honestly, it feels like I’m home again.

Nervously, I open my little black book.

“Check your bitcoin wallet.”