a life half lived

✦

though he attempted his best to listen to jess and look attentive when doing so, eric’s focus had shifted elsewhere. she had a point: if they were lucky, they would be able to close off this level with far more virtual money than what was currently in their inventories, but none of it would translate into the real world. it served him some consolation that he’d managed to get parveen and danny to pay him extra in exchange for his participation, and solely because only bribery had succeeded at stamping out his initial relentless refusal. at least he wouldn’t walk away empty-handed after all the effort and psychological anguish. 

“making history… so that’s what’s in it for you?” the brunet echoed, pensive. “what if it’s all bogus, jess? i mean… what’s the point of movie deals and biographies if none of this makes a difference and we’ve just wasted our time on something that never worked?” each one of eric’s words was clad in frustration, and by now he wasn’t even sure who they were meant for anymore.

“look, i read the damn–” eric turned away in exasperation, shutting his eyes and letting out an annoyed exhale at the same time his hands subconsciously curled into fists at his sides– “i read the same consent forms as you did. ’m just saying, i expected danny and parveen out of all people to be more gracious about building this whole thing.” if neither of them could be trusted to be ethical in their approach, then who could? 

great. so their minds would be misleadingly allowed to ‘rest’ for the remainder of this level only to be flooded by a sequence of the most bizarre recollections as soon as they woke up. “fair enough, ’t makes sense-” pffft, no it didn’t, but he’d taken an extensive amount of punches to the face during his life yet none of them to date made him feel as resigned as these prospects did. “so our best bet now is just… do a decent job at being cowpokes, i guess.”

“if it’s bogus then it’s bogus that we learn from. that’s how all science works, eric. even the stuff that doesn’t work or doesn’t do what is intended makes progress. now you know what not to do. if this fails and goes up in flames, it’s still game-changing, no pun intended. even now, we’re doing something that’s never been done before: traversing a digital landscape that was custom tailored to our brains. this may not be the next step in psychology, but it could be a revolutionary step for gaming. it’s a custom game-” again, she cut herself off, beginning to ramble excitedly about all the things she considered late at night. 

jess scowls at the names of the scientists, “danny and parveen are just as power and fame hungry as anyone else. this experiment wasn’t made with altruistic intentions, so i wouldn’t trust them to be looking out for your best interest. they’re like me, what they want is the praise. trust that.” she didn’t elaborate any further. she didn’t know if the scientists could listen in on their conversations while in the game, and she didn’t want to antagonize the experiment leaders any more than she already had. just convincing them to let her therapy group be a part of this was hard enough. 

“exactly, all we have to do is act like we’re in an old clint eastwood film and  make sure the good guys get the money and the bad guys get dead,” she confirmed, “still don’t feel great about having a gun. maybe my character knows how to use this lasso. that would be wild. anyway, you go with artie. i’m sure y’all will have a great time playing poker and throwing down with the locals. just don’t die yet, i feel like it’s going to take all of us to open this safe.” 

.

               Artie realizes that he walked into a conversation in which he doesn’t have much input a little too late,    but then again,   that is every conversation with Jess.   He purses his lips in thought,   used to being looked to for answers as the oldest person in most groups these days,   but he can’t really say in this scenario.   The most likely situation is that Jess is simply speaking out loud and asking Artie is a way to make a confirmation to herself,   but he still makes an attempt to at least put up an air that he knows. 

       “I mean,   sure.”    He says wisely.     “Women do trust other women more.”   He pauses,   staring at the building still,   pretending like he’s thinking.   After a long pause,   without looking at Jess,    he asks:    “What’s an NPC?”

Jess actually liked talking to Artie about her insecurities more than she did with anyone else. Other people would listen intently, commiserate, empathize, and spew some reassuring bullshit. With Artie she could get the words out and not have to deal with any well-meaning contradictions and half-hearted compliments. It was like talking to a brick wall, except she could check off the little box in her mind that said ‘prove your therapist wrong and open up to a person’. 

.

         “Wow, that is rude that he didn’t believe you.” Vanka squints up at the building. “I think you’d make a great showgirl!” Then again, she supposes Jess’s outfit isn’t very showgirly. It’s more nice lady on the ranch.

Vanka’s outfit, meanwhile, is more I’m going to rob you at any second. Which she doesn’t think is very accurate, but maybe the video game outfits are just randomized? Or maybe she’s more of a badass than she knows!

Vanka shades her eyes with her hand, finding the window on the second story that Jess is looking at, and trying to figure out how they’re going to climb it. There’s little windowsills and stuff, they should be fine. “Okay, let’s do it!” she enthuses. “And if we fall and break our spines– it’s only a video game, right?”

Jess tosses her hair and smirks the familiar tight-lipped smile that often graces her face when she feels genuine happiness but doesn’t want to show it. “Thank you,” she chirps. Jess had never been the sexy, or even the pretty, type. Her domineering and harsh personality had always ruined whatever good looks might have been observed at first glance. She’d always had more of a hot librarian vibe about her, but that never attracted the  people she wanted. Maybe being a showgirl would be better. Maybe, but probably not. 

“Exactly, we can’t die. We can only. . .lose hearts or lower our health bar or whatever,” she said, hoisting herself onto the railing of the back porch. The toughest part was next, maybe she could shimmy up the support beam to the overhang. Or maybe she could use the rope in the bag for something. Her upper body strength alone wouldn’t cut it. As she climbed she tried to distract herself by talking, each few words punctuated by a grunt. “I’m just now realizing how much better at this I would’ve been in elementary school. I was the queen of the monkey bars. Kicked a boy in the face once, tooootal accident.” 

It was not. 

✦

“we’re still ourselves and we get to line our pockets by the end of this. i’d say that’s a big improvement,” he  offered a shrug, nonchalantly kicking some sand with the sole of his boot as he eyed his attire. 

eric had not wanted to consider that the mysterious thing jarvis had mentioned could have anything to do with them. he hated the uncertainty of whether his would be the spectacle up next for the others to course through to probe each one of his fears. the whole guessing game felt like sitting at one of those dunk tanks, and the last thing he wanted was for the team to be watching as he plunged into the cold, dirty water before he could realize it himself.

“god, i can’t imagine that’ll be it. they’re not allowed to use personal information against us like that, right?” he wanted to laugh at jess’s remarks, to enjoy the image of them opening the safe to find a stack of records of artie singing ‘the hokey pokey’ and ‘row row row your boat’. all eric could muster instead was a faint grin. “maybe it’s a good thing we won’t remember everything we see.”

“i’m not sure about either of those things. this experiment is supposed to change us. and they’re not paying us that much to metamorphize. not even a months’ rent for me,” she grumbled, “but that’s not why i’m doing it. we’re making history right now. this experiment, even if you’re just a test subject, is revolutionary. our names are going to live on in history. we’ll probably even have a book written about us or a documentary made. wouldn’t that just be. . .”

she stopped herself mid-rambling. she knew that she was doing this experiment to stick it to the people who told her she couldn’t. and that after she got fired she’d never make a name  for herself in the psychological academia world. and of course, she was doing it so she could show up at hannukah celebrations next year and use it as a flying fuck you to her brothers. but eric didn’t have to know all that. 

“eric,” she laughed haughtily,  “did you not read the consent forms? that’s like the whole point of this experiment: to scan our brains and use our memories against us. we’re practically fist-fighting a manifestation of all of our fuck ups.”

“and we won’t remember it while we’re in cowboy town, and the game is  trying to convince  us we’re just regular cowpokes, but i’m not sure if the memories stick in the real world or not.”

          Not having the opportunity to talk with the group before jumping into the next level is making everything feel a little bit more fresh. Artie sees Jess and remembers a few hours ago, when he tackled her to the ground in an attempt to save Aza and Devon, the latter of which ultimately met an ugly fate. Jess wasn’t herself anymore, but it’s still an ugly memory. As much as he can barely put up with her at times, he doesn’t like seeing her… well, with loss of control. How ironic. 

       “You really think you can climb this place?” Artie approaches her, kicking up dirt with his cowboy boots. He looks up at the Christie’s, squinting one eye. “I mean, the showgirls– don’t you think they’ll mind?” 

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑  — @contrclled​.

Jess had done her best to put her end in the last level out of her mind. to her, getting bit and not surviving to the end was as good as the whole team failing the level. She was proud of Aza, of course. but her control freak nature meant that she wanted to be the one to conquer every level all y herself. But that wasn’t how the game worked. 

Her eyes surveyed the open window of the second floor, as she mused, “Oh they’ll mind. But only until I make it clear I’m not some creep, I’m just there to talk. Lady to lady, they’ll understand. I think,” she paused, “I don’t know, I’ve never had a lot of women friends but I’ve been told there’s some implicit comradery. And they’re video game npcs, how difficult to persuade could they possibly be?” 

✦

while he didn’t share jess’s level of excitement, eric felt inexplicably curious about what they might encounter inside the steel walls. he’d seen the end of enough break ins to feel suspicious about its nature, especially when not even the man who had hired them to safekeep it knew exactly what it was. in whatever form it had taken, the item seemed to be cryptic enough to fuel significant rumors around these parts yet dangerous enough to be left out in the open. maybe it was a ‘you’ll know it when you see it’ kind of deal. still, not much about that idea put eric at ease.

“hate to be a buzzkill but i don’t think a prisoner would survive being in there that long,” eric objected. “will you be disappointed if it turns out to be something mundane, like… fraudulent tax forms?”

“yeah, i guess you’re right… that was something,” the brunet said, a bit of self-consciousness trailing behind his words. “how much of it do you remember?”

“If it’s something boring, like a book, I’ll scream. Or if it’s something like photographs from my childhood I’ll also scream, but in a different way,” Jess thought it was entirely possible this was here level. Some people had called her  a ‘guarded’ person. She kept locks on her bedroom door during parties, so a safe filled with her dirty laundry wasn’t out of the question in this  game. “Jesus, you’re right. It may be something from Artie’s subconscious, and I’m sure it would be even more boring than a book somehow.” 

Of course, Jess knew that Artie’s life wasn’t actually boring. She just enjoyed putting him in the ‘quaint old man’ box and not considering the fact that he could be cool. Life was so much more organized with boxes. 

“It’s all slipping away. Like when you wake up from a dream but the more you try to remember it the more it dodges away.  I know there were zombies, and police, and Aza mentioned something about a phone at the end. Either way it wasn’t fun. So I’m hoping this level will be a little bit more yeehaw and less ‘oh god a policeman bit me’.” 

@contrclled​

         “So let me get this straight.”

Vanka squints dubiously over at Christie’s. She can’t stop fussing with the gear she’s got on, touching the rough sleeve hems and the brim of her hat, marveling over how real it feels. She’d done the same thing back in the zombie level, but then she’d kind of forgotten it was a video game, so she’s going through the same astonishment all over again.

“You want us to climb up the side of a building and talk to the showgirls? Because we have to rob a bank?”

“Because we have to talk to the head showgirl to get information on how to rob the bank. And when I tried to enter through the front door the guard stopped me and was very insistent that I wait until opening.” 

Jess was already frustrated, although that seemed to be her default mode. She didn’t expect the game to be easy, but she was hoping for a little more ‘shoot the targets’ and a little less ‘talk to people and be nice to get what you want’. That wasn’t her style, so she opted for breaking-and-entering instead. Looking up at the ajar window of the second story, she hoped no one could hear them. But the music coming from inside was loud enough to drown out the voices within, so she figured they were safe. 

“I tried to tell him that I’m a dancer but for some reason he didn’t believe me. He was incredibly rude. So, climbing it is.” 

“I wonder what’s in that safe, other than money, of course. I bet it’s like jewels, or the deed to the whole town, or - oooh! Maybe there’s a person in there, like a prsioner!” she rambled, sounding a little too excited, “Hopefully it’s more interesting than a phone, and hopefully I’ll be able to actually see it this time. Instead of just turning into a . . . person with rabies.” Jess still refused to say ‘zombie’ but that was more a matter of pride at this point. 

✦

once again, he chuckled, but he shook his head as if to get rid of the impulse and focus on the more pressing matter. 

“wouldn’t want to risk it either way,” eric replied, words rolling so easily off his tongue as though neither of the scenarios jess described would make a single difference. whether it be out of self-preservation or the need to get through the levels as quickly as they could, eric knew he’d be the last one in the group to hesitate about pulling the trigger regardless of who or what stood at the barrel’s end. 

“no, still intact,” he chimed half monotone, half seriously. his eyes darted toward jess’s belt for a split second after that, hoping she’d pulled out something of use by then. 

 “whoever’s behind the trash can, better get the fuck out before—” the rest of the warning got choked up in his throat at the swift appearance of a small, lanky figure lounging toward them at a surprising speed. eric immediately caught sight of the thing’s jet-black eyes, and the large, bright blood stain across its neck and chest. 

“shit! jess, get back!” 

▽

jess was already starting to forget that it was a game. so consumed by her resentment for being demoted to such a low-ranking position she was wondering how she’d tell her family about another year of disappointment. worse yet, she was already falling into fantasies of telling captain kipling off and putting him in his place, she’d forgotten he wasn’t real. 

“good,” she said softly. the blunt and short response might have sounded to the untrained ear like a quick dismissal of condition, but anyone who knew jess would be able to identify it more like a sigh of relief: small but heavy with meaning. no follow up or rejoinder about how she needs him to be in good shape so that she can use him to move forward. because in truth, she’d also forgotten that they weren’t in any real danger, and she was just glad he was okay. 

with her fingers finally curled around the pepper spray on her belt, she held it out and watched in horror as the bloodied man shambled toward them. but despite her fear she didn’t listen to eric, instead she opted to step forward and do the most jess thing possible, “excuse me sir, we are officers of the law, you take one more step forward and i will be forced to - jesus!ohmygod!” 

she was cut off as the man lunged at her, teeth first. she swooped out of the way of the incoming maw, but was caught as his bloodied fingers curled around her outstretched upper arm. the sweat on her fingertips made them slide uselessly over the lever to deploy the pepper spray and her attempts to writhe away met no success as he chomped at her again, “get off me! get off me, please!” 

✦

eric half chuckled at jess’s complaint. it made him even more aware of the absurdity of their current circumstances by reminding him of all of the group’s quirks that he’d gotten to know in the past months. 

   “so your biggest issue with us getting ganged up on by the undead is that you don’t have a supervisory role in the say?” the brunet added, but he couldn’t hold himself back from hinting a smile.

sure, they were surrounded by what appeared to be literal zombies, but jess was still jess, and in a way, that reinforced that their surroundings were still just an elaborate ruse of pixels and psychological dynamics.

still, at the abrupt noise, eric swiftly drew his gun, the weight of which still felt strange on his arms. “i hope for both of our sakes that it was only a raccoon,” he commented, finger curled around the trigger as he cautiously walked in the trash can’s direction. 

 “you alright? i mean… you haven’t been bitten yet, right?” 

jess rolled her eyes, “they’re not zombies, eric. this is a serious mission, i mean, simulation. there’s not going to be any wild creatures, it’s just violent people. maybe they have rabies or something. or they’re high on bath salts. but they are not the living dead. and yes, even if they were, i should still be more than a foot soldier.” 

unlike when she argued with the others in the group, jess never felt her blood pressure rise when eric was around. no matter how much they disagreed and bickered, she always felt like she was biting back a smile. maybe because it felt like he was actually listening, not judging, just hearing her side of the story. 

she was thankful that he was quick on the draw. both due to her aversion to guns and the fact that she wouldn’t know what to do with it even if she was okay with holding one. still, she scrambled at her belt, feeling around for something like mace or a taser. her eyes are glued to the alley as she skirts around it, but she still manages a scoff, “no i have not been bitten.” 

she says the words like it’s absurd, although there’s already been two close calls. then, in a small, squeak, she asks, “have you?” 

“Get in the car, old man,” she demands, with as much attitude in her voice as in her wild gesticulations. It’s almost a threat, “If we’re going to be dealing with crazy people trying to tackle us, we’re much better off with a big metal exoskeleton protecting us. No matter how much longer it takes us to get there.” 

​“The fact that I am not a detective seems like an oversight,” she moans, in obvious protest. She about to explain while she has the skills and wits, to outshine any of the d’setectives on the team but she’s cut short when something clatters in a trashcan nearby. Jess nearly jumps out of her skin, fumbling for something at her belt that will offer protection, “What in the jesus christ was that?”

“they’re really making us carry guns? don’t they know the statistics? this is ridiculous.” she complains, with a huff, “i don’t care who is out there. anyone sensible should see our uniforms and know there is dire consequences to attacking us.” 

staring down at her phone, aza had begun to dial her friend’s number about a dozen times then decided against it. she could just wait for her to get back…waiting was fine. her fingers were dialing the numbers once again when jess walked up. “oh i k-k-know but i figured maybe i c-c-c-ould be of some help! i didn’t wa-want you to do everything alone.” aza said scrambling to help with the bags as she headed inside. “it w-would have been rude to n-not help!”

"it's like a tiny little party," she says dismissively, ushering aza through the doorway and into the kitchen as she dumps the bags on her counter, " I can handle this, and some might consider it more rude to directly defy the instructions, just saying." her voice was chastising but lacked any real anger, and instead was laced with apathy, she starts unloading the bags, "well, if you're here you can set up the appetizers while i set out the drinks."

.

               Artie follows her gaze and eyes the double doors suspiciously.   Part of him honestly believes that Jess is saying the truth and masking it behind sarcasm—   he wouldn’t be surprised.

       ❛  Tasteful,   yes.   But I don’t know about these grazielda figurines you’re talking about.   I do have some collections,  ❜   he says with pause,   wondering how much he should share about himself.   It’s strange how he sees Jess in therapy every week,   yet they know so little about the mundane things in each others lives.   

       ❛  —I collect records and music boxes.   My husband likes collecting fountain pens and inkwells…   and all sorts of elegant stationery.   Anyway,   why did you move to such a large space ?   You’re alone,   aren’t you ?   ❜   Artie asks,   then blandly rephrases:   ❛  I mean,   you don’t share the space with someone else.  ❜

- 

She waves her hand dismissively about the grazielda response, “It’s a grandma thing. They’re creepy as shit.” She tries not to flashback to her Aunt Patricia and the room that smelled like wilted roses and wet dog. Everything was covered in dust except those porcelain faces. Hearing about his collections she feigns awe, “Wow, that is so . . . boring. Geez Artie, did you just walk into a pawn shop and request a start pack for the most popular hobby?” 

Jess’ eyes traces the outlines of her apartment. She folds her arms, “I like being alone and I don’t like being cramped. So I’m alone and I have a lot of space. And it really isn’t that much. It’s just a two bedroom for when fa-. . .company comes.” 

✦

“a… party. right,” eric nodded slowly, secretly unsure that their respective definitions of ‘party’ matched. at a glance, this did not look like a crowd fit for a party, but more like the kind who would meet for a coffeehouse or some other high-brow, uptight event. he didn’t expect much potential to liven up any given party from a group who had resorted to essentially living inside of videogame seeking peace of mind. 

“four—?”  at jess’ mention of the figure, eric almost choked on his gulp of beer. “no no, don’t do a toast: you’re trying to get people to drink, not leave.” his hands instinctively set down the now-empty bottle and fished for a new one, seamlessly enough for her perhaps not to notice. “did you consider what would happen if half the group showed up to campus hungover as fuck? can’t imagine throwing up in the middle of a simulation’s that formative…” 

she doesn’t appreciate his hesitance at the word. sure it wasn’t like the ragers that she went to in college, but those were loud and messy. a clamor of hands and smells that made her stomach curl. this was much better - the low din of familiar voices and the smell of her lemon scented all purpose cleaner. 

when he remarks that people would leave if she attempted a toast, she can’t help but chuckle. jess takes another sip form her champagne, chuckling into her glass as she mutters, “fair. fair. my public speaking was never the best and telling everyone ‘don’t fuck this up’ probably won’t make me any more endearing.” jess isn’t oblivious to how people see her, she just tells herself that she doesn’t care. 

jess actually really likes eric. he is practical and forthcoming but not intentionally cruel. quite soft, actually. he is everything she wishes she could be, but jess can never find a way to break her habit of spitting venom. mean is easy, kind is hard. she sighs, “right, hangovers. yeah that probably wouldn’t make a good impression. i guess i just assume everyone has a high tolerance or at least knows their limits. but then again . . .” she gestures vaguely to the group. 

“are you scared?” she asks, her voice low. 

“Not sure excited is the word I would use,” Devon admits, his jaw flexing as he does his best to keep his expression pleasant, “Perhaps, anxious, might be more appropriate.”

“Oh wow I never imagined Mr. Traditional would be the one to rain on the parade,” she muses, her voice laden with sarcasm. She takes a pointed sip of champagne.