SHADOW’S FLAT — THE CITY
NEXT DAY — 11 JANUARY 2036
Two words shaped Down Below’s operating system: contrast and perspective. The services provided to the ‘virtuous’ humans above in exchange for digital life. A simulated existence: sometimes short, other times long, but always painful.
Down Below intensified the dark tones that made the light shine brighter Up Above. Harry and Tom were Down Below’s puppet masters. They designed learning experiences and created moments of growth personalized for the ones above, all the while unleashing hell on the others below.
Twist placed his hand over Tom’s shoulder, squeezing it. He’d learned over time that physical contact was the best way to reassure his over-sensitive best friend. Tom slumped his shoulders and lowered his gaze to look Twist straight in the eyes. His hands trembled ever so slightly as tiny drops of sweat or tears (Twist couldn’t tell which) gathered over his upper lip.
Twist's voice trembled. “Tom, buddy, this must stop. I’ll take over.”
“Shadow. I’m Shadow.” Tom backed away, shaking his head. “Leave me be.”
“I won’t make that mistake again, bud. You need to spend more time Up Above. It’ll give you some perspective.”
Tom’s answer, barely audible, was seasoned with guilt. “Harry, you know I can’t…”
“All the people we’re helping.”
Tom opened the window, and the outside air invaded the space like a deadly cancer—thick with smog and the acrid stench of burning chemicals. Twist coughed, his lungs burning. The atmosphere corroded under the weight of industrial decay. “I choose to live in the hell I’ve created.”
Twist held Tom’s right wrist, pulling it up to uncover the cuts—many wounds—some fresh and shallow, some deeper scars of a not-so-distant past. “You need to stop this!”
Tom pulled his arm away. “It’s nothing.” He lifted his hand, still trembling, using his long fingers to move the always-disheveled, dark hair away from his eyes. “Just a way to cope.” He fidgeted. He always fidgets with his hands when he’s in a bad place.
Twist’s breath quickened, a sudden jittery feeling taking over him as he caught his friend's nervous energy. He took a deep breath and held Tom by the side of the arms just above the elbows to stop the movement. His hands traveled down to take his friend’s hands in his own. “We gotta get past this. It’s not real! It’s a simulation, just a game.” A hard swallow gave away the ever-decreasing truth of the words spoken.
Tom looked down straight into Twist’s eyes. “Am I a simulation?”
Twist broke eye contact, unable to accept a reality he’d been ignoring for half a year. Outside, travelers and bots scurried like rats in a maze.
“Come on, man. You’re not one of them.” Twist shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re making yourself sick,” he admonished.
A fine layer of sweat coated Tom’s temples and neck. His pale skin looked almost translucent, framed by the blackness of his wild hair, now longer and messier than it had ever been before. Twist shook his head, refusing to drown in his friend’s justified hopelessness. His chest tightened, resolve stiffening in his bones. They were sinking, and he would keep them both afloat, whatever it took.
“You’re too emotional,” Twist said. “Never able to see the bigger picture.”
“It’s my job.”
With frustration building, Twist ran his fingers through his short, straw-colored curls. “If you get caught up in the stories and feelings, you’ll never find a solution,” he repeated, his voice rising in urgency.
“There’s nothing wrong with empathy.”
“You can’t let it destroy you. How’s that going to help anyone?” Twist composed himself and forced a smile, attempting to reason with his desperate friend. “Come with me; you’ve been stuck here for too long.”
Tom lowered his head, eyes landing on his wrists. “I can’t. Remember?” Yes, Twist now remembered, even when he tried so hard to forget.
“I can’t do this, buddy. Seeing you hurt like this…” Twist wanted to shake him.
“I never wished to play God. We’re criminals!”
“Acclaimed heroes of the people.” Twist delivered half-truths to keep his friend safe from self-harm.
“Which people?” Tom glanced out the window at the City’s hellish skyline. Outside, the usual chaos—toxic fog, sirens, screams. “This is all our doing.”
The City had seen too much, suffered too long, always teetering on the brink of the collapse travelers craved. The chaos and despair sparking great beauty Up Above. Twist wished Tom could take a step back and see the bigger picture and acknowledge the benefits he had refused to enjoy.
“You’re fucking unreasonable. Up Above needs contrast to thrive.” Twist was screaming at his friend. That’s one hell of a way to comfort a broken mind. He bit his lip and softened his tone. “Take a break. Focus on your art.”
Tom’s large hazel eyes filled with tears. Then he hinted at his old smile, the one that used to light up the room, but Twist could see it was only a wooden attempt to give reassurance. “I’ll be all right,” Tom said, his voice strained. “Use your perspective and technical chops to help me find a way out of this mess, my friend. We need to change the rules of the game.”
For all his tender heart, Tom was as stubborn as a mule. Months of attempting to resolve an impossible puzzle, running an endless marathon toward nowhere. Stamina running out. The stress, guilt, and lack of progress taking a toll on them.
“Okay, bud. Let’s get out of here. We’ll think better Up Above.” He had promised June, his wife, he’d be back for dinner.
“I’ll stay right here. You know where to find me.”
Twist tousled his friend’s hair, resigned. “All right. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
As Twist got ready to leave Down Below, Tom reached out and took his arm. “Hey, did you send a traveler my way? Am I part of someone’s journey to attain perspective?” Twist shook his head, puzzled. Tom continued, “I couldn’t read her intentions, but it was clear our paths were meant to cross.”
“We’ve added extra privacy settings, remember? We’re testing them with point two percent of our travelers.”
“She’s probably one of them. It felt...different.” An erratic blue glow lit up his face as he got close to the window. Outside, neon lights flicked like a malfunctioning circuit board.
“Keep an eye out for any glitches. I’m monitoring the experiment.”
“Will do.” Tom’s strong eyebrows almost touched, half-hidden by the messy cascade of the top length of his hair, as if he were attempting to solve an impossible puzzle.
“What’s going on, buddy?”
Tom licked his lips and looked away. “The chemistry was just insane.”
“Oooh… Interesting choice of words—chemistry…with a woman? That’s…differeeennt.” Twist smirked wickedly.
Since they had met, Tom had gone out with a handful of men. He had a track record of falling for damaged brilliance—gifted individuals, somehow broken or incomplete. Perhaps that’s why they’d become best friends. Twist was keenly aware he was a flawed genius.
“Yes, different… I hardly know anything about her—how she feels about things; what she stands for. Still, she feels familiar. I can’t put my finger on it.” Tom stared at his shoes.
“Chemistry, eh?” Twist said. Tom returned a bashful smile and his pale cheeks turned red as Twist snorted with laughter. That smile was Tom, not the Shadow he’d become, just sunny Tom. “Enjoy it. It’ll keep your mind off problems.”
All but one of Tom’s relationships had been short, but by no means casual. Twist suspected he couldn’t take anything lightly, even if he tried hard. He cared too much about anything and everything.
Down Below’s demands always created a chasm challenging to overcome, but that wasn’t the reason Tom had been single for most of his life. Tom's eyes always held a distant longing, a hidden pain that Twist could see but never grasp, a scar left by a first love. For Twist, the man was flawed and dangerous, but Tom held him in his heart with a profound devotion, a fever that left no space for other romantic relationships.
Tom’s idealism and his distorted vision of his ex’s virtues were the yardsticks no one had managed to overcome. Principled to a fault, Tom was harder on himself than he would ever be on anyone else. Still, few humans could stand to live in the shadow of his unspoken judgment for long. Twist was the exception because he wasn’t that sensitive. He was terrible at reading people, and that helped a lot in dealing with his ever-brooding friend.
“You sure you’re not playing Cupid?” Tom was still mulling over his encounter.
“What you talking about? To punish a poor traveler with your company?” Twist flashed a goofy grin as he prepared to exit Down Below. “Tom?”
“What?”
“Remember, ‘Anything can be.’” In difficult times, they had always tried to go back to the idealism and virtue of kids’ books, the books that had brought them together to change the world.
“We’ll write our lives with actions, not words.” Tom blinked at him.
Twist smiled, reassured by the familiar response. “A true story.”