PORTLAND
Rosa jumped out of the pod and took a minute to breathe deeply and compose herself. The egg-shaped structure’s sole purpose was to keep her vulnerable body safe from harm while she experienced the digital virtual world. The lock mechanism stopped any external interference during the time she was in a semiconscious state.
She had used a hub downtown as she didn’t own a private pod. Down Below hubs had become as popular as a major coffee chain, and they were present every few blocks in any city. These large crystal-glass buildings towered at least ten stories high, each level a hive of technological marvel housing hundreds of pods. Even in everyday venues like hotels, coffee shops, and markets, private pod ownership became a symbol of status, with one or two exclusive pods available for patrons.
Across the nation, people were thriving in newfound careers, mastering difficult subjects, and overcoming personal fears—all thanks to the simulation platform. Recognizing its transformative impact, most state governments had made it compulsory and even subsidized its use, ensuring that everyone could access this powerful tool for self-improvement. The TDust was an upgrade from the original TSkin. Four-year-old children drank a nano-nectar packed with hundreds of thousands of read-write interfaces that manipulated the user’s brain and nervous system to bring Down Below to life and to measure travelers’ reactions to their digital experience.
Rosa had thoroughly studied the platform, and her associates had carefully manipulated her data and adjusted the new privacy settings. Still, it was clear the platform was onto her. Her Down Below experience had obviously been assembled by considering her history, hidden desires, and flaws. She felt sick. Even then, the TDust was tracking her. Rosa’s heart rate, the rise in adrenaline in her body, and hundreds of other biological signals gave away her emotional state. Her gut screamed at her, Run, run as fast as you can. She controlled her panic. What was the point of fleeing when the monster that chased her was inside her body?
She scanned the building, looking for cameras and assessing if anyone was onto her. Her body relaxed as she could only find other travelers jumping in and out of the pods. The ones returning from Down Below wore a mix of devastation and revelation on their faces. Slightly stunned by their experience, the users initially moved slowly, deep in thought. Most avoided any connection with others around them. A few minutes later, the inevitable happened—confusion turned into an urgent desire for action. The travelers were ready to apply the new insights on their real life. They rushed out of the main door of the building with renewed conviction.
Rosa walked to the area of the hub where travelers could relax and reflect after returning from Down Below. She served herself a glass of water from the fountain and instinctively reached for the back pocket of her trousers. She sighed. Her ghastly digital habit had been banned from Up Above a few years ago. Her pockets were empty. The cigars and her vintage Battlestar Galactica warrior outfit were all digital props selected by her as she entered the land of chaos and smog. Her Down Below look was a shield, a character she channeled to help her execute her plan. Galactica’s Starbuck was fearless, strong, and unpredictable—all qualities Rosa needed if she was to achieve her goal.
She sank into a beanbag, closing her eyes, only to be confronted with the image of the ravaged woman in the painting. No, it wasn’t the woman in the painting; it was Rosa’s sister—Lilly—that came to her mind. The young girl lay dead in her bed wearing her white sleeping gown. The child’s head and arms, tipped over the side of the bed, arched backward, close to reaching the floor. Rosa wanted to scream, to jump, head first, out of that crystal-glass prison.
She opened her eyes, her heart racing with each beat. She bit her lip and held her breath, trying to quell the surge of anger coursing through her veins. Then, involuntarily, her mind drifted to another memory that had long tormented her: the day Ron had struck her mother across the face. She never forgave herself for not calling the police, for not averting the tragedy that ensued. Life had seemed to improve so suddenly back then; how could she have foreseen the consequences? Still, a voice inside her whispered, I should have known.
Those were interesting times, exciting times. The new platform—Down Below—was rapidly gaining global acceptance and usage around the world, and the media was starting to pay attention to its impact on world affairs. Humankind was experiencing a sharp increase in common sense and goodwill. In just six months, chaos turned into cooperation, support for science, and investment in actual solutions for the climate crisis. Amidst this transformation, a new era was emerging—an era into which Lilly, Rosa’s half-sister, was born in 2028, just before the rise of the age of reason and harmony.
It was a thriving, abundant world, full of possibilities for a young child. Less ambitious and much more trusting than her older sibling, Lilly was kind and loving, always looking up to her famous sister for guidance and emotional support. A world with no villains didn’t need superhuman heroes; children’s stories began to focus on invention, innovation, art, and creativity. Stories that defined every human being shaped both sisters—different stories, eras apart, led to disparate outcomes.
By 2035, at the tender age of six and a half, Lilly lived in a city with no violence, corruption, or greed. There was no longer a need for stories or classes focused on cautionary tales, on body safety, on distrusting strangers. There was no reason to teach kids about predators, monsters, wicked witches, and warlords in a world that had none. The young girl sang like a bird, learned to play the piano all by herself, and attended dance classes six times per week at the neighborhood’s academy. A trusting soul, Lilly was an angel long before she was dead.
Because of Down Below, Up Above had become a utopian world. The cities were filled with green spaces where every building featured vegetation and waterfalls. There were no cars on the streets; instead, unobtrusive glass elevators transported people to the fastway underground. No one looked at screens or devices. People were fully present, happy, and at peace as they went about their day in a city with no visible signs of police or security forces.
In just a few years, Ron had changed from the manipulative and seedy man Rosa despised into a contained and controlled parent, guarded, but flawless as a husband and caretaker. An early adopter of Down Below, Ron spent entire days away from his family, leaving his pod only to fulfill basic human functions. Whenever questioned, he always rushed away with an unexplained urgency, muttering, “I have old demons I need to purge.” By the time he came back, he had acted as though nothing had happened.
One day—a year ago—everything changed. He returned to meet the two sisters in Lilly’s room, and he proceeded to destroy their lives, hopes, and dreams. Rosa still struggled to assemble the horrific patchwork of memories from the day her Lilly was taken from her. Ron hit Rosa in the head with a porcelain jar and left her semiconscious and hopeless. The little bird cried for help, tortured at the hands of her father. By the time Ron finished with Lilly and moved toward Rosa, the elder sister had regained enough agency to stab him in the neck with a broken piece of the jar: a fatal wound.
That she had saved herself and not her sister was too much of a blow to Rosa’s self-worth—her overbearing confidence, her identity, her entire life, all gone. A few months later, she used another piece of broken porcelain to cut her wrist, a failed attempt to travel with her sister to a place far from grief and horror. She was no longer a hero or a champion to her most precious darling sister, a child ravaged by her beloved father. Lilly was the love of her life, and there was nothing left to live for…until there was something to live for—revenge.
The system meant to protect them failed. Was it an oversight? A glitch? An unforgivable bug in a vital platform, the responsibility of its founders. That she could jump out of Down Below in front of Shadow was proof he wasn’t one of the characters. The platform prevented travelers from disclosing their nature to the bots. Real people couldn’t jump out of the simulation in front of the Underlings. She suspected Shadow was not a bot, but the avatar for Thomas Astley-Byron, one of two men responsible for Lilly’s death.
He’s the other one, Thomas, the one backstage, in the shadows. Rosa remembered the day Henryk Nowak had spoken about the children’s books during Marge’s interview. The same books Rosa had seen on Shadow’s bedside table.
She had traveled Down Below in pursuit of answers, searching for the malfunction that had prevented Ron from acquiring contrast and perspective. Rosa hadn’t been expecting to face her enemies so quickly. She wasn’t prepared to warm up to one of them as much as she had to that beautiful, broken thing. What she thought was a digital fuck toy may have been one of the most powerful, accomplished, and enigmatic human beings on the planet.
She promptly rejected her feelings—the shadows, the shades of gray. Rosa dismissed the rare moments where he smiled with such wholesome and unguarded sincerity it made her weak in the knees. None of it mattered. The situation was black and white. Her sister was dead, and Thomas and Henryk were to blame.