Ten Sigma Page 6
The cheery avatar raises her voice. “In order to smooth your transition, the answers will be given at their appropriate times. Now, let’s visit the facilities and the rest of Home. Come, there are many fun things to do!”
As the familiar tingle of static flows over my body, Syd slyly winks.
While the queasiness twists my stomach into a knot, I grind my teeth and look away.
Then everyone dematerializes and we head to our next location.
Nine
“The movement of the sun and the phases of the moon keep pace with their counterparts in the physical world,” Haiku says as we stroll through the place she calls Home and I’ve secretly named “Gigantic Game Map.”
Our path has taken us to a spacious patio near the four-leaf clover-shaped perimeter. Outside the three-meter boundary wall, a stunning mountain range with snow-capped peaks rises majestically through a cloud bank. It seems unnaturally high until I realize the virtual world isn’t curved like the Earth. As a computer creation, it’s flat.
Overhead, the splendor of the blue dome stretches, and my eyes glimpse skyward to catch all its glory. This type of spiritualism is completely out of my character, but I can’t help the feelings bubbling inside me.
“The home of our virtual overlords,” says Syd.
For the entire tour, I’ve been working to avoid him, but he keeps finding his way to my side.
Frowning at the unwanted friendliness, I tug at the band over my breasts, trying to cover more skin. Then, determined to escape any further conversation, I sidle away from him and across the group, studying the massive buildings ringing the interior of the sanctuary.
Unlike the impressive outward scenery, these objects don’t pretend they could exist in reality. Giant in scale and constructed of impossible architectures, each of them is a testament to the ‘big, bigger, biggest’ philosophy, a complete sellout to the religion of over the top extravagance.
Although conceptually beautiful, the towering structures lack any function. Among their many useless features are grand walkways leading to nowhere, colorful spirals resembling antenna communicating with nothing, and tall, empty towers capable of housing ballistic missiles. Only their massive doors, which are always locked, seem to serve any purpose.
Noticing my gaze, Haiku launches into a history of the closest tower despite it only being a software construct created from a few million bytes of code and data.
I feign enthusiasm. It’s as real as she is. The disquieting thing about the entire experience is that the more Haiku tries to make us feel comfortable, the more anxious I become. The happiness she layers onto everything is too much when paired with the lethal knowledge embedded in the threads and the gorefest of the island. And there’s the warning not to get killed, which has to mean more than not leaping head-first off a tall building.
A shadow from the dipping sun crosses my face as a team led by a floating teddy bear walks past our lecture. Although Home is large, close to the size of a small city, occasionally we see one of the other hundred groups of ten wandering the grounds.
Like a tick embedded into my subconscious, my first instinct is to search in terror for the bald giant, who I know is always right around the corner. Beside me, several others flick wild glances. I’m not crazy—everyone seems to have some muted fear burrowed into their mind.
When it’s clear he isn’t one of the intruding group, which, like us, consists of five men and five women in identical minimalist outfits, I relax.
As they pass, I try not to blush from the abundance of skin while the others on my team react differently. Jock and Sergeant Rick obliviously strut about in their rigid postures. Vela gains more confidence with each passing glance, while on the other side of the spectrum, Ally chats, friendly to all. Carol ignores everyone, choosing instead to play with her long blond hair.
Suri returns each bit of attention by manufacturing a sultry gaze of her own. While her meaning is obvious, I’m not sure I understand why she’s doing it. Besides simple curiosity, none of the men exhibit any interest.
And except for making creepy glances at my rear, the plain-faced Syd shows no inclination toward any of the new females.
While my main goal is to stay anonymous, I garner the most platonic leers of everyone. Among the attention thrown my way is a protracted stare from a large man with a civil war era beard and thick hair creeping down his back and over his broad chest.
I roll my shoulders, tugging at my elbows and ribs, trying to fit my new body to my personality. When it doesn’t work, more uncomfortable than ever, I shy away and resort to walking in front of Suri and Rick to use them as shields.
The other group soon curves behind a massive column with a final gander from the hairy man and a mean stare from the beady eyes of their teddy bear leader.
Although the notion’s crazy, I’m beginning to think the avatars dislike me.
Suri leans, ogling at the retreating forms.
“Why are you doing that?” I ask.
She quickly checks the immediate area before replying in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m not happy about losing my name or having my memories ripped apart. The overlords want my soul, but I won’t surrender without a fight. Killing is so simple now, but the simple act of making love impossible?”
And I thought I was the rebellious one. “The idea of sex does nothing for me.”
“Me either. But that won’t stop me from trying.”
“You shouldn’t worry about such things,” says Haiku.
Startled, I twist my head. While a floating software construct sneaking up on someone shouldn’t be surprising, it’s still disconcerting.
“Any lingering desires you have for sex will disappear as part of the acclimation process. It’s for your own good,” Haiku says in her happy voice. Then, she smiles before zipping away to answer a question from Rick.
Suri steps close. “I was afraid of that. The longer we’re here, the less like ourselves we’ll become. I already feel bad enough for not caring about anyone I killed on that island.”
“Me too.”
“I’m not giving up that easily. Besides, if I succeed, I might have fun too.”
After I wish her the best in her sexual rebellion, we proceed from the giant buildings and into an enclave situated a ten-minute walk from the barracks. Haiku’s voice rises in excitement. “This is the play area,” she says, sweeping her arms. “These places offer wonderful activities. Bowling, archery, sauna, swimming, volleyball, and an opera-styled theater. We have a movie night every week!”
I roll my eyes. Although lacking a beach, the diversions cover everything else one would discover in a tourist resort.
Haiku points. “That’s the museum for anyone with sophisticated tastes.”
While the rest of the group remains uninterested, I peer in the direction of her finger. It’s a delightful one-story 17th-century brickwork with loving touches of wooden window frames and wrought iron grilles surrounding classical artwork, reminding me of my two-bedroom cottage.
I take tentative steps from the group toward my new favorite place in the virtual world.
Loud grating static floods my ears. Suddenly, I’m knocked to the ground.
A red-bearded, red-haired leprechaun hovers above me with an angry stare poking from under his shamrock hat. A moment later, his team of ten materializes behind him.
More stares.
I puff stray hairs from my face and twist myself into a sitting position, hunching to be as small as possible.
Syd steps in front of me, presenting a full-frontal view of his body. He offers me his hand. “Milady.”
“I don’t need your help,” I hiss, wanting to dig a deep hole and hide. When his hand doesn’t move, I slap it away.
“It was merely an attempt to be chivalrous,” he says in a hurt voice.
I shove myself upright and twist my body from his reach. “I beat hundreds of trained people to get here, and I don’t need a protector. Go bother someone else.”
I rub the back of my neck.
“What’s wrong?” Suri asks.
“The leprechaun,” I whisper through gritted teeth.
“What about it?”
When I point, he’s leading his team past the swimming facility with a wide smile plastered across his ruddy face.
Just dandy.
I groan and walk toward Haiku while my mind avoids asking more questions about my sanity.
Even better, as I reach my group, the teddy bear arrives with his ten charges in tow. More curious gazes flood over me.
Wishing to be in my former cute, petite body—minus the gimpy leg—I brush my red mane over my shoulder and sidle next to Suri. While I chew a nail, the large hairy man stops and stares. Although the gaze is more from ingrained habit than any lewdness, I fold my arms and face away from his attention.
There is a snap and a crunch of cartilage.
I whirl in time to see Syd deliver a vicious kick to the hairy man, who lies in a heap on the rubbery walkway. Ribs crack as the poor man grunts.
Team Teddy Bear jumps to their teammate’s defense. Jock and Rick rush to help Syd.
Partly from astonishment, but mostly in embarrassment, I cup my hands over my cheeks.
Before anyone can strike a blow, a barrier of air materializes between the combatants.
“Stop,” yells Haiku, zipping between the two parties. The teddy bear mimics her efforts, except his commands come in high-pitched shrieks. “Everyone behave.”
Syd points at me. “I was protecting her.”
“Yes, that man was being lewd,” Jock adds in a loud voice.
As the object of their protection, I blow out an angry breath. I didn’t think the bearded man exhibited anything more than a past habit, and with my skills, I can defend my own honor.
Haiku raises her hands to stop any further babble. “This place is a sanctuary from violence. No fighting is allowed.”
“We can’t let people disrespect us,” Syd protests.
“I can take care of myself, and he didn’t mean anything,” I say, throwing my hands to the sky. The long stare was less annoying than the clandestine glances I’ve been getting all day from Syd.
Mercifully, the shimmering barrier limits attacks to only angry gazes and mean comments.
After glaring at me, the teddy bear snaps his fingers. The blood spilling from the nose of Syd’s victim disappears. The hairy man puts his hands on the ground and stands.
“Now that’s fixed,” the floating stuffed animal says in his squeaky voice. “Apologize.”
The large man faces me and bows his head. “I’m sorry ma’am. No disrespect intended.”
“This isn’t necessary,” I say to the virtual universe.
Haiku says, “Syd, don’t you have something to add?”
A contrite expression falls over Syd’s face. “My humblest apologies. Perhaps I overreacted.”
The words exude sincerity, and the hostility between the groups diffuses.
Shocked by the reactions, I try to figure out where the gentleman persona came from, because it matches nothing I’ve seen while dodging him all afternoon.
Am I the only one he creeps out?
After the other team leaves, Haiku calls us together. Her small hands rub over her cheeks until they turn a bright red. In her serious voice, she says, “This is a place of sanctuary. Whatever the reason, conflict is not allowed here. If you have an issue with another group, let me handle it. If you have an issue with a teammate, let me find a solution. If I cannot find a solution, I will break up the team and place everyone in new sanctuaries. Harmony is very important in this world. Does anyone have any issues?”
This is news. Although I’m sorely tempted to get away from Syd, the prospect of winding up in a worse situation causes me to hold my tongue.
The grass isn’t always greener.
Syd points at the retreating group. “What if those people harbor resentment?”
“This is a place of sanctuary. No team you see in this location will ever be in a scenario with you,” Haiku replies.
“What’s a scenario?” Rick asks.
Haiku gasps. “Something I shouldn’t have said.”
“Can you tell us anything else,” Suri asks.
After a moment, Haiku blows out a breath. “You are all sworn to secrecy.”
Everyone nods.
“In the coming phase, scenarios are the tests you must past to graduate the Ten Sigma Program. Now, no more questions concerning that subject,” she says and turns away, heading for the next destination.
Although the answer is innocuous, a chill spreads over me as I rub my nape.
Ten
After the tour of Home, we have a tedious session in the shooting range as part of a team-building exercise courtesy of our illustrious leader, Sergeant Rick.
Our downtime comes when daylight ends.
While we aren’t truly flesh and blood, basic rules govern our physical state, and in most aspects, our bodies operate as they ordinarily would in order to mimic fighting in real life. Air is a requirement. Inside, our hearts beat and blood flows through our arteries. We tire and have adrenaline bursts. There is sweat. Sleep too is a necessity. And according to Haiku’s ominous warning, we shouldn’t do anything to get ourselves killed.
On the other hand, our muscles and coordination stay in perfect shape regardless of physical activity. Also, no personal grooming is necessary. And true to the man in the black broad-brimmed hat’s promise, we don’t even need to pee.
However, the one thing superfluous to combat, but deemed indispensable to the human condition, is the act of eating. Although I have no idea why, I suspect the virtual overlords want to establish the normalcy of a daily routine to ease our transition into the virtual universe. Or it could be something totally nefarious, but in the interest of team harmony, I abstain from asking obnoxious questions as we sit down for our first meal.
A wide, off-white room with drab brown frames around its windows and metal doors serves as the cafeteria. Arranged in ten rows, laid end-to-end from the guard rails of the food service area to the opposite wall, are long foldout tables with brightly speckled, laminated surfaces. The molded chairs lined on each side are cheap. In every way possible, this facility feels like an afterthought compared to the spectacles outside the plastic windows.
Tonight, the place bustles with unwinding people who were strangers in the morning, now trying to share a bond forged from an afternoon’s orientation. Occasionally, the air pops when one of the avatars appears.
We occupy a table near a bank of windows, with five of us on each side. I’m in a center position with Suri—whom I find myself liking more and more—on my left. Sergeant Rick sits on my right, his ramrod-straight posture stiffer than humanly possible. From across the table, Jock gives Walt a good-natured headlock as Ally contorts her too cute face by letting out a series of chortles at a horrible joke from Simon. Carol wrestles with a tangle in her long hair, while, furthest from me, Vela shyly touches her cheek.
A loose plastic sack filled with a syrupy blue liquid, the central ingredient of the activity, rests in my palm. The other members of the team hold identical packs. While growing accustomed to virtual eating will require suspending more than a handful of disbelief, at least I can’t make a mess. I hope.
Below the bag, I spot Syd, who has somehow wrangled the seat across from me, leering at my breasts.
I let my hand fall to the table. Syd’s smugness is ruining everything about my newfound friends.
As he notices my stare, his dark eyes narrow and his thin lips form a wry smile.
Unwilling to give him further attention, I angle myself to Suri and try to immerse myself in a conversation about the spiciness of Indian cooking. However, I can’t concentrate because my peripheral vision catches Syd making quick glances at my chest. If it wouldn’t be ridiculously obvious, h
e probably would be sneaking peeks under the table.
Enough.
“Why do you keep staring at me? Do I excite you?”
He huffs and lifts his gaze to my eye level. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Teenage chin pimple and all, Walt leans into our budding disagreement. “Well, you are super-duper hot,” he says innocently.
“Everyone looks good,” I reply crossing my fingers.
Except for Syd.
Walt presses on. “No, you’re in a different league. You have those long legs and perfect boobs, along with that thick red hair. Nobody else is close.”
My glare silences him.
At least for a moment. The teen adds in a murmur, “I’m just being honest. Don’t worry, I used to get excited by any bare skin or crappy hologram, but my parents beat it out of me. Now, I guess I’m glad not to have to worry about it anymore.” He titters at an unseen joke.
“Good,” I blurt, feeling guilty the instant the word leaves my mouth. I know he had a terrible childhood, but this excess attention is killing me. My sister was always the “hot” one. I was the girl who needed special shoes to correct a gimp and was happy to become a nerd.
On top of being a hypocrite.
Being short with Walt triggers remorse, yet I can’t muster a sliver of emotion for killing people with my bare hands?
Suri interrupts my self-loathing. “You are pleasingly perfect. I love your eyes. They’re an amazing shade of blue and they sparkle. And you have sensual lips.”
Vela nods. “She’s right. You have a distinctive and intimidating look.”
I hunch, my face burning from embarrassment. “You’re both not helping.”
“Maybe you should fret about them, not me,” Syd says.
Suri chuckles. “Keep your fantasies to yourself, Syd. I’m attracted to men. A lot.” She straightens and raises her head to reinforce the point by checking out different men wandering around the cafeteria. After manufacturing a few sultry gazes, she sighs disgustedly. “Not that it matters here.”
I shouldn’t, but my mouth opens before I can resist. “How about you Syd? You looking for a girlfriend?”