Simulated, p.19
Simulated, page 19
At the door, I push but it doesn’t budge, like it’s glued shut. I push harder though I know the sim is fighting me. The doors open, and my feet are stuck to the floor. I’m determined to get to the table. As soon as I come close, Kai looks at his watch once more, and then leaves through the back door to the alley.
“Kai! I’m here!” I shout out to him. But it’s too late. He’s running. I chase after him. He’s heading in the direction of the square where the fight happens.
“Kai!” I scream again. He doesn’t hear me. My feet pound harder, faster into the pavement. But no matter how fast I go, I can’t catch up.
Numbers flash out at me, telling me my speed, but I don’t care because I can’t match Kai’s speed. The numbers vanish. In previous sims, I’d know I was off course. I’d reevaluate my assignment. But here I don’t.
I arrive at the square and remnants of a fight are everywhere. Surely, everyone was here. But it’s over now. Kai’s gone. I’m too late. Madame and the Successors are nowhere in sight.
I don’t know how much time I have left. Minutes. Seconds. My gift isn’t coming back. So I keep running, not paying much attention to anything. I failed my assignment. But the blood racing through my body feels good. That’s all I want to feel, the pumping of my heart to make me forget. I head to the river, and follow it as far as I can, knowing my sim will fade out at any moment.
At the end of the line, I see a man stooped over the handrail, gazing at the night sky. His hands, old and familiar, wrap around the rails. My breath catches in my throat.
I walk, my face leaning in to see the man. My hand covers my mouth as I gasp.
“Red?”
Loud rotor blades pump overhead. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. My hands vibrate against a set of control levers, sweat already beading against my palms. I’d forgotten phase three would be the helicopter. This time, I’ll study the coastlines. This time, I’ll fly.
A gush of warm air and a rush of freedom resound through me as my eyes open to a black sky. I’m in the middle of nowhere. Usually, if you fly at night you need at least 30 minutes for the rods in your eyes to adjust to the dark. If not, it could be disastrous, like flying blind. Not to mention bad weather conditions.
Thick clouds swirl around me. There’s a light drizzle on the windshield. No horizon in sight. Far from ideal. And my plan to study the coastline is defeated.
The program is too smart. It’s designed to challenge me. Night challenges have always been the worst. I think back to the time they made me surf at night. I couldn’t concentrate. All I focused on were my legs dangling off my board in the inky water and what was under me. The waves were methodical enough, but it was too much. I panicked. It took one wave to knock me down and steal my breath. I was too far out, lost my board and couldn’t swim back.
Likewise, now, I’m too high up, with a storm brewing and nothing to stabilize me.
Do I pull out? But I can’t. I don’t want to give up.
The gauges display all the information I need. I fly, knowing something will go wrong.
My mind settles into a rhythm and tries to locate any pattern at all. But the night gets worse. A cold front is hitting the summer air, and lightning starts to crack in the sky. Why did they ever put me into these simulations? The smart thing to do is land. Get out of the storm. But as the storm worsens, so does my visual.
Lightning bolts stretch across the sky and my mind shifts to panic. All of a sudden I’m convinced I’m upside down.
Spatial disorientation. A leading fatality in helicopter accidents. It’s the only explanation for my confusion. I check all the gauges. They’re on track. But my mind whips right and left and all I see is fog, clouds and darkness. Thunder shakes through me and steals the last faculty I have. My eyes race around, searching for any focal point.
Wake up! I need my gift to calculate the space around me. I don’t want to trust the gauges—I want to trust my gift. Lightning strikes downward in front of me. I fly away from it, but the more I move in any direction, the more up is down and down is up.
Spatial disorientation, my mind warns me again. But my body is turning inside me. The gauges are wrong. They must be. It says I’m flying downward. But I’m not. I’m too high.
The lightning cracks again and I can’t figure it out. The rotor blades are too loud, and the lightning is too bright, I’m about to rip off my helmet when Noble’s voice is in my sims. And a surreal feeling that his hand is on my leg. I look down but nothing is there.
“Trust your gauges and pull up.”
“They’re wrong.”
“They can’t both be broken. Pull up.”
His voice stabilizes me. The frequency. It’s even in the sim now. How is this happening? Then I remember. We’re in the same van.
“Focus on the lightning—don’t look away from it.” His voice instructs. “The patterns of it striking. What do you see?”
Even though my whole body says it’s wrong, I pull up, because he’s better than the gauge.
When the jagged light shoots downward. I know I’m right side up. Another brilliant flash and the crooked lines write themselves in my mind. The strangest thing happens. In the next flash, I don’t see lightning, but a river breaking into tributaries on a topical map; then tree branches stretched out in all directions. Peace floods my body, the numbers a gentle pulse, and even the rhythm of the rotor blade above me is a simple calculation. I hear nothing now but a still night.
“It’s beautiful…”
Noble is gone. No more voice or frequency. I fly into the lightning. I don’t even care if it strikes me. My gift is on. Slowly, the storm fades and the clouds part over the dark shimmering water with a revelation.
I beat the simulation.
Everything goes black.
Noble leans over the middle seat, his eyes on me. My chest tightens and our eyes lock in a raw, beautiful way because he’s sharing in this small victory.
“How’d you know about the lightning?” I ask.
“Clouds are not spheres, mountains are not cones, coastlines are not circles, bark is not smooth, nor does lightning travel in a straight line.” The quote slides off his tongue so easily, I know it all too well and it hits my ears like thunder.
I jolt forward. “What?” I ask, my stomach flipping. “Why did you say that?”
“Did I say something wrong?” He looks confused, trying to make out what upset me. “Like I said before, designs make patterns, and patterns makes equations. I thought you’d get the reference since you carry a Mandelbrot postcard with you and almost every prodigy from here to India knows that quote.”
I huff an awkward laugh and tuck my hair behind my ears. “Right. Yeah, I got the reference.” My cheeks heat so I peer out the window to hide them. “Thanks for the help.”
A car horn honks outside, clearing the air and bringing back reality. I shake off his comment and the fact that for a split second I thought Noble might be connected to Mandel somehow, but there is no way that could be true. Mandel was my friend and would never hide his identity from me. He wasn’t a hacker, either. Besides, Noble had brushed off my sim with Mandel as nerd-dating. Wow. No process time between sims really messes me up. But he’s still staring at me like he’s waiting for something.
“What?” I ask.
“Did you learn anything?” he asks, and I remember—phase two. Friday. The Successor.
“No. This sim was different,” I say, trying to piece it together. “It wasn’t the same as Monday. My sims are malfunctioning.”
He considers that for a moment. “I don’t think it’s malfunctioning. I think your reality is overpowering your memories. I’ve looked into how PSS designed it, and your sims are created for this purpose. To give you what you need at the right time. Eventually, you won’t need them at all. It’s part of the process. So nothing new?”
“I ran to the fight and everyone was gone.” I don’t tell him about Kai in the restaurant or that Red was there.
Noble is calculating me. “Hate to do this. But you need to do it again. My numbers are going crazy. Everything we need is locked up in there…” He softly taps my temple and I squirm at the way my skin tingles at his touch.
“What I need is my gift back.” I mutter, not meaning to snap. I must be tired. “I’ll do them tonight when we’re out of the car.”
“OK. I made an update of sorts. When you do phase three again, don’t choose Monday. Let it be automatic. Hopefully, it’ll help your gift.” He breathes in and his hands fold nervously in his lap. “And…I can also come in with you in person, if you want.”
I pause. “What? Do you mean into the sims, not just with audio?”
“Right. I’d be there with you. You’d be able to see me.”
“How is that possible?” I look at him, marveling at his ability, but also incredibly taken aback on his offer. Why is he doing this? A thousand questions fly through me. Phoenix would be so suspicious of him. But I’m not. It’s the coral. It’s the lightning.
He holds up a tiny piece of micro-tech. “With this. It’s a neural simulator that can connect to your sims. You attach it behind your ear. It’s how I popped into your sims that day on the roof. It’s a bit disorientating, but if you think it’d help with your gift, I’ll come in.” His eyes melt into mine and for a second, I look at him in a new way. Not as a hacker, but a boy who I know nothing about. Whose life is a complete mystery to me. An enigma. An equation I’d like to solve.
A small part of me is curious about what it would be like to have him join me in my sims. He could help me with my gift. He could help me find the answers I’m seeking. But if I’m honest, I’m curious about more than finding my gift. I want to know who he is and why this frequency is bouncing between us.
Then all too soon, I’m smiling at the freckles on his nose and our eyes meet, and like an invisible line is about to be crossed, he’s moving closer, not physically, but emotionally and…it scares me.
I break our gaze and look out the window.
“I’ll be fine alone,” I say. “Thanks, anyway.”
Noble feels the rejection and takes it as his cue to turn back around. In Arabic, he converses with Qadar until they’re laughing like old friends. Qadar’s body language is relaxed, comfortable. My years of studying people come into play quickly. Is it because they’re both from a common culture or…no, it’s much more familiar…My gift flickers at their use of language and their mannerisms. It couldn’t be. But everything in me says I’m right. I don’t speak Arabic, but these are old jokes between two very close people.
They know each other well. How could I have missed it in Sidi Bou Saïd? Qadar didn’t come inside the National Bardo Museum to look for me because he knew who I was meeting…the Arabic phrase book on the bed in Dar Alzaytun—Qadar must have placed it there for Noble when he first inspected my room.
I shake my head. This trip is giving me far more answers than I thought. Thankfully, these are not the first men with secrets I’ve had to deal with.
Their conversation in Arabic entrances me. I imagine their words like a story opening from the wrong side of the book, moving from right to left on the page—opposite of how I learned to read. The phrase book Noble gave me is in my backpack. He said it’d help me see life in a new way, and I understand that. Learning Chinese, or Arabic, is like breaking out of a box you never knew you were in. It takes focus, curiosity, and courage to think and speak differently, but eventually, new pathways form in your mind, and you start to see and hear a world you never knew was there.
The melody of their discussion lulls me to sleep but not before syllables, tones, and sounds are imprinted in my mind, bringing color to areas I never knew were dull.
When I wake, it’s dusk. The busy streets and tramlines of Tunis are long gone. We’re on a highway in the middle of nowhere and the land has grown dry, brown, and sandy. We pass a ‘camel crossing’ sign, and random cars are set up on the side of road selling stuff.
“We’re in the Sahara now. Past the Jebil National Park.” Noble’s frequency rolls over me like small waves in a gently rocking boat. He gives me a shy grin. “Almost there.”
We drive through a small town where olive and palm trees cluster around the shops with brightly colored signs and crates full of dates stacked outside them. Large awnings extend from stone houses and trucks rumble past us until we are back in the desert outskirts.
The sky darkens and we keep getting further from town. A billion stars twinkle in the sky, and the moon seems ten times brighter here.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my stomach growling. “I thought we were staying at some touristy place?”
“We are. We’re setting up our surveillance in a tent.” Noble smiles mischievously.
“Tent? Like camping?” I ask, very confused.
He hands me a brochure with two camels on it, and grins. “Not exactly.”
Chapter 38
DOUZ, THE GATEWAY OF THE SAHARA, SAHARA DESERT, TUNISIA
WELCOME TO THE Tunisian Sahara, Saddle up and enjoy the Dunes Bedouin-style! The brochure states. Inside there are pictures of several large and luxurious nomadic tents.
“So we’re glamping in the Sahara?” My head snaps over to Qadar. “What’s going on?”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “You’ll see.”
We park the van and waves of dunes surrounded by hundreds of palms trees create a beautiful oasis in the desert. I grab my bag and follow Qadar and Noble. We walk on a dusty path through the desert and reach a sign that says, Oasis Bedouin Dream, Maghreb Style Glamping in the Tunisian Sahara.
But once I walk through the wall of trees, paradise hits me. These are not like any simple camping tents I’ve seen. Sophisticated and lush white canvas like small castles spread out in a very specific formation, creating a circular camp around beautiful stone patios with a sparkling blue pool.
Café chairs and patio recliners line the courtyard. Thick palm trees covered in lights dazzle me.
A group of kids run out and circle Noble jumping all over him.
“Aslema!” they yell, chattering on in Arabic. One kicks a ball to Noble and he kicks it back, tickling them.
“Tourist lodging, huh?” My lips curl to one side.
He smiles and hands me his phone. “I’ll explain after your call. Your phone’s dead, I rerouted the call to mine. Sorry. It comes with the gift…”
“What call?” His phone rings, and I look down, recognizing the number immediately. Right. “Hi, Dad,” I say, picking up.
Noble navigates confidently into the maze of tents, heading toward a large elaborate tent in the middle of them all. The canvas is pinned open displaying beautiful diamond patterned carpets, hanging lamps and colorfully decorated tables.
“Hi, honey,” my dad says eagerly, an edge to his voice. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. You wouldn’t believe this but we’re actually glamping in the Sahara right now.” I set my bag down and wander over to the tree line where an animal is making a strange sound, like a child crying.
He sighs with relief. “Wow, from museums with 3000-year-old relics to desert glamping. No scorpions, I hope?” A nervous chuckle.
“Not yet.” I discover the noise is from a herd of camels, tied up to a stall. A pungent scent of dung nearly makes me gag. “Lots of camels though.” I plug my nose and wander back to the courtyard. I step onto a beautiful brick lanai lining the crystal-clear pool. Potted jasmine with small blooming white flowers and a sweet fragrance decorates the pool area, which is surrounded by Arabian date palm trees. It’s paradise in the middle of miles of dunes. I could stay here all year.
“Sounds fun. I’ve always been curious about those caravans in the desert, I mean, what else is there to look at besides the dunes?”
I’m about to tell him about the pool and the palms when Noble walks out, a glimmer of the setting sun on his bare chest. Wait, bare chest? Why is he only wearing shorts? Is he going—a splash of water sprinkles the patio after he jumps into the pool. The kids from earlier run and scream after him. A full-on splash attack of water and laughter ensues.
“Um,” I say, distracted, watching him swim, his lean arms gliding through the water, a huge smile on his face and laugher spilling from his mouth. He looks so happy, so at home.
“Jo?” my dad says.
“Yeah, lots to look at—um—it’s really good looking out here.” I smack my face with my hand. “I mean, it’s exotic and it’s a desert. And there are palm trees. And rocks.” My fingers pinch my forehead. Get a grip. “Like you said. Sand and sky.” I look up. Hmm. Not a lot of light pollution. A good place to study the stars…
“Well, I’m not going to lie, Jo,” he says, “Sounds fun. I’m happy to hear that you’re safe. Are you guys getting any work done?”
“We have some down time,” I say, my lips bunching together. “Can’t do much until tomorrow and Friday. Today is prep time.” That sobers me a bit.
“What are you up to these days?” I ask.
“You remember those Kung Fu exercises Kai set me up with months ago? Well, I finally started practicing a few. Things are changing, Jo. I feel stronger, like this trip was meant to happen for both of us.”
“That’s great, Dad.”
“I’m glad you’re getting your wish to travel and see the world. We still need to do our call tomorrow and Friday, ok?” he says. “Take some pics! Send them my way.”
“Sure, Dad,” I say. Noble catches my eyes from the pool and smiles. Embarrassed I’m still staring, I wave and turn away. “Hey, can you put Mara on for a minute?”
“Sure. Talk tomorrow, honey.”
A second later Mara’s voice comes on. “Sis?” she says. “How’s everything?”
