The Aurora City

  Cassiopia cradled a pillow as she awoke from a deep, dreamless sleep. Slowly, she became aware that Markman was not there. She forced her eyes half open and squinted at the morning light seeping through sliding glass. She pushed up on one hand and looked around. The quaint little hotel room was glowing from the day’s new light. She sat up on the edge of the bed and tried to wake. Her beige cotton robe had somehow ended up on the floor. Memory of its hasty removal the night before crept in. She wrestled it back on and stood searching for Markman.

  He was on the balcony, in the lotus position, facing the rising sun. He was barefoot in loose white cotton pants and no shirt.

  “Sun worshiping are we?” she mumbled, rubbing one eye.

  Markman looked up at her and smiled. “There’s a book out there with the title, What If God Were The Sun. Better be careful what you say. You never know.”

  Cassiopia leaned against the balcony rail. “It feels good.”

  “All vitality comes from the sun. If you meditate or sleep in it, you can really cash in.”

  “Did you sleep well?”

  Markman rose straight up, almost as though he were levitating. He unlocked his legs, turned and kissed her lightly on the lips. “When I sleep with you, I seem to sleep more deeply. It scares me sometimes.”

  “Why? Why would sleeping better worry you?”

  “Because we were trained to listen for danger in our sleep, like the animals in the forest. Always ready. Always watching. You seem to relax me from that.”

  “Let’s go get breakfast. I’m starved.”

  “Let me dress, okay? You should, too.”

  “Very funny. I saw a really nice restaurant near where we parked.”

  “Lead on.”

  At breakfast, the mood quickly became restive. They sat at a patio table surrounded by flowers and the smell of jasmine. Cassiopia, in jeans, a violet silk paisley top and purple silk blazer, sipped her tea and stared. She gathered her ivory blond hair behind her and sat back. Markman, in jeans and a black turtleneck, slowly turned his coffee cup on the tabletop, looking down into it in thought.

  Cassiopia began. “You know this is all fine and good until they want to take that sensesuit off of diagnostics. Then it becomes lethal. That’s not acceptable. You cannot do that.”

  “Have you already made up your mind about this?”

  “There’s nothing to decide. You cannot put on that suit and go into a game that might kill you.”

  “Maybe they have a way to work around the bad stuff.”

  “They’d better because there’s not going to be any fights to the death.”

  “We could at least finish the last game I was in. It was already just about won. All that was left was a brick wall and a garden. Nothing to it.”

  “Maybe. I want to see what I can see from the control board. Then we can decide.”

  Cassiopia gave Markman a narrow-eyed stare. “You wouldn’t want to chance your life in there, would you? I mean, not now.”

  “Only if we could be real smart about it. You know, have all the answers before we needed them. Know what’s going to happen before it does.”

  “I’m not sure even that’s enough. There would have to be an understanding of the lethality of it.”

  “You realize they may be eavesdropping on everything we’re saying.”

  “He said they don’t do that.”

  “And you trust them?”

  “Of course not. Do you?”

  “A wise old Tibetan monk once said, it is not wrong to trust.”

  “An American Indian once said, the politicians only kept one of their promises. They took our land.”

  “Touché. Have you reached your father?”

  “No, and that’s irritating. Either he’s in sidebar discussions, or he’s just got his phone shut off and forgot about it. He’s always doing this.”

  “Well, maybe later.”

  “I’ll call the desk if I have to. I’m not going to let him get away with switching me off.”

  “Wow! You are in a mood this morning.”

  “I am woman. Hear me roar.”

  After breakfast, the trip to Taslam Industries became one of reluctant excitement. On this day, few additional cars were taking up spaces in the parking lot. Inside, the guard at the security station looked up and nodded with familiarity as Cassiopia and Markman passed. The elevator ride seemed slightly more harrowing without an escort. When the sideways motion slowed and stopped, the doors slid open to the same futuristic office, and this time quite a few people in lab coats were milling about and working at various stations. As Markman and Cassiopia headed to the sensesuit lab, some took notice; others did not. Beyond the white raster curtain, John Paul was waiting at the same table they had used the day before.

  “Good morning. A good night’s rest I hope?” he said with a smile.

  “We’re as ready as we can be,” replied Cassiopia. “Where do we start?”

  “Would you like something? Coffee, tea, water?”

  “Maybe in a bit. I’m anxious to hear where we are in all of this,” said Cassiopia.

  “As you wish. Then let us begin by reviewing Scott’s previous experience inside the sensesuit computer. After that, Shandra can begin showing Cassiopia what we know about the system, and Scott and I can inspect the suit to be sure it is in the same condition it was when he last used it. When we’re ready, if both of you feel confident, we’ll do a short test of the suit and the system using diagnostics mode, and then meet here again to discuss our findings. Does that sound logical?”

  Markman nodded. Cassiopia said stiffly, “Proceed.”

  John Paul smiled at her obvious mistrust and nodded. “Once inside the suit, when a user first pulls on the helmet, a vacuum seal occurs and the suit cannot be removed unless the computer authorizes it. Oxygen is brought in from the outside environment but is processed and controlled by the suit and can be modified by the system to help produce any effects that may be called for, such as lightheadedness, stimulation, and many others. To begin with, the user experiences a complete and total darkness. Rising suns indicate the system is initializing. The city of Aurora comes into view along with a row of eight boxes that require entry. That is the pass key a user must enter to gain full access. In your case Scott, Richard Baker gave you the eight digit code. Otherwise we would not be here discussing this.”

  Markman raised his eyebrows and sat back recalling that unexpected moment in which his former suspect, Richard Baker, had voluntarily given him the authorization code that saved him from being burned alive in the suit. It was an unsettling memory.

  “Once the proper sequence of zeros and ones have been entered, a row of icons appear around the user’s plane of view. Each is a new scenario the user can elect to visit. We have determined there are a total of 144 different top level choices. To our surprise, we found that some of those icons bring up many additional icons of their own. We have not been able to calculate the total number of choices available to a user. It is a staggering number. If a user does not elect a scenario in the allotted time, he is defaulted to the Aurora City, which is what happened to you, Scott. You found yourself in a futuristic city. You were assigned a protégé who went by the name of Trill. You were allotted one million game credits to start. Doing well in the game would earn you more. Doing poorly would take some away. You were also offered the opportunity to purchase a page, a character which would accompany you and assist you. You wisely elected to do that. It cost you fifty thousand of your initial credits.”

  Markman interrupted. “Mr. Paul, you have more detail than I included in my debriefing reports. How do you know this much?”

  “We have learned to replay the most recent user logs in the machine. We have not been able to view any others yet. We watched your progress through the game. The machine gives us a 3-D color display with audio. When and if you revisit the Aurora City, your progress will be displayed on all the monitors here in the lab. We have struggled to establish user communicatio
ns so that we could assist you while you are in there, but so far that capability has eluded us.”

  Cassiopia spoke with sarcasm. “So we can watch, helplessly.”

  John Paul acknowledged with a nod. “But there’s something I haven’t mentioned. We believe we have switched off the suit’s self-destruct mode.”

  Markman raised an eyebrow. “When I was in there, the Trill guy did mention that was possible.”

  “It leaves us with two problems, however,” continued John Paul. “One is that we cannot be absolutely certain we’ve eliminated the self-destruct threat. The second is, physical injury from the game remains a part of the game. There is no getting around that. How harmful can the suit be? We have not found a limit to it.”

  Cassiopia’s sarcasm returned. “So he won’t go up in flames in a suit self-destruct, but he might get his head smashed in and we’ll be watching and unable to do anything about it.”

  John Paul paused briefly and said, “Yes.”

  Cassiopia tried to control her temper. “Oh, this is just so ridiculous. It is an absurd thing to consider.”

  John Paul tried to look sympathetic. “Cassiopia, let me ask you this. Scott does private investigations for people in serious trouble who have exhausted all other avenues of help, including law enforcement. Is Scott planning on retiring from that kind of work, which only he can do for people?”

  Cassiopia looked at Markman with a crinkled brow. Markman tilted his head in wonder. It was a question neither had considered.

  Cassiopia answered. “We haven’t talked about that.”

  John Paul skillfully played his next gambit. “So if someone important came to Scott right now, desperately needing his help, would you refuse? I ask this because it will answer this question for all of us.”

  Cassiopia attempted to maintain her temper. “I…I don’t know.”

  “A family member? If a family member desperately needed Scott’s unique services right away, would he help, even though there might be danger involved?”

  “What kind of danger?” asked Cassiopia.

  “A kind similar to what we would encounter in a sensesuit,” replied John Paul. “Would you allow Scott to aid a family member in distress under those circumstances?”

  Cassiopia tilted her head down and cursed under her breath.

  Markman raised an eyebrow and sat up straight. It was the first time he had ever heard Cassiopia curse. John Paul remained silent, suspecting he had won his case.

  “The Earth is our home. The people here are our family. I would give my life to protect them. That is the decision you must make, Cassiopia. Scott has already made it. He is ready,” said John Paul gently.

  Cassiopia looked up at Markman. “Risk it?”

  Markman leaned forward against the table. “It will be harder on you than me,” he answered.

  Cassiopia turned to John Paul. “It will be one step at a time. We’ll decide as we go, but I’m not making any promises.”

  “I will trust in your decision,” replied John Paul.

  “Me too,” added Markman glibly. The others looked at him with annoyance.

  “To continue with our briefing,” said John Paul. “The user is offered a tube rider or direct transport to reach the starting point of his game. Scott chose the transporter last time and was teleported directly to the contest. That first trial was a simple white hallway in which a predator called an Akima began pursuit of Scott and his page Illy. From there, a number of challenges and obstacles intercepted Scott as he proceeded. Real players have a blue triangle on their suit garment. Tapping that blue triangle allows a user to abort the game. During an abort, one of two things occurs. The user is terminated by the suit, or he is returned to the starting point where he can resume the game on the next session, referred to as the opening of the main gate. The odds when using the abort triangle are 60-40. It is a 60-40 chance of death or safe escape. Scott was forced to use the escape triangle when he was overpowered by an adversary. But, on his return trip, he managed to advance nearly to the end of the contest, which temporarily ended only because another player reached the prize before him. The prize being offered was the Coffer of Dreams, a vase which supposedly holds a reward that is beyond imagination. Back at the starting point, although he had not yet won the contest, Scott was told he had excelled and had achieved full citizenship in Aurora, and he had a good chance of completing the game on his next attempt. That brings us to where we are today. We expect that if Scott re-enters the game, he will be sent directly to the same point he left off at, which will allow him to open the Coffer of Dreams and receive the reward promised. Does all of that agree with what you remember, Scott?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Anything to add?”

  “The last obstacle was a brick wall. Once you figured out how to get through it, there was nothing between you and the Coffer. So, there probably is no real danger in going in to finish that game.”

  “Cassiopia, anything to add?”

  “No. I think I’ve made my position clear.”

  “Very well. We can break up then. Scott and I will examine the sensesuit. Cassiopia, Shandra will show you all of the computer resources we have at our disposal, along with documentation to study as you find time.”

  Cassiopia turned, surprised to find Shandra standing close behind. Shandra wore a long elegant dress that looked exactly like the one she had on the day before, though now it had a faint shade of green to it. Looking up to greet Shandra, she immediately noticed her eyes were green, as well. Yesterday they had been blue. Shandra smiled and gestured toward the big computer ball suspended in the room’s center. The two women left to study it.

  Markman followed John Paul to the sensesuit test area, feeling a familiar pang of apprehension as they approached. The dark suit waited upright in its crystal clear holder. The shiny black helmet hung slightly above it, the familiar molded ribs curved over the helmet’s crown, monocular view screens protruded from the face, numerous sensors and controls covering the rest. It looked like a torture device.

  The suit itself seemed so familiar. Heavily ribbed, second-skin stretch material packed with even more sensors and wires, along with the odd shapes of unexplained attachments. The chest area was partially open from a split that ran from the left shoulder to the waist; the way in.

  “We’ve found no defects or problems of any kind,” said John Paul. He touched the side of the display case, and a lighted outline appeared around the front panel. The panel dissolved, allowing access to the suit. “Perhaps you will find something we’ve missed.”

  Markman stayed back and walked once around. It occurred to him there had never been time to study the thing this closely. He had always been inside. At the front, he stepped closer and felt the slippery material near the open seam. More memories flashed to life.

  “The inner lining is an interwoven bovine collagen with a glycosaminoglycan molecule. That’s how the suit actually becomes a part of you,” said John Paul.

  “Didn’t understand a word you said,” replied Markman.

  “Artificial skin,” said John Paul. “The suit interacts with you on a molecular level.”

  “Well, that kind of gives me the creeps. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “Does everything look correct to you?”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with it, but I never got this close a look before. I was always in a hurry.”

  “Want to try it on?”

  “I need some privacy. It is supposed to be worn without anything underneath.”

  John Paul turned and motioned to someone sitting at a console. A white raster curtain appeared and blocked off the test area from the lab area. Markman hesitated for a moment, then turned back and brought the suit down from the display. The helmet remained suspended.

  “The system is not engaged,” said John Paul.

  Markman hefted the suit in his hands and looked it over.

  “No one has worn it since you last used it,” said J
ohn Paul. “You were the last.”

  Markman handed the suit to him. He pulled off his clothes and piled them on the floor. He took the suit and carefully slipped one leg at a time into the opening. Flashbacks of how slippery the suit’s interior felt rushed in. He slid one leg down into the boot and then worked the other into position. Standing on sensesuit boots, he worked one arm into a sleeve and then the other. As before, the material seemed to merge with his skin. There was total freedom and a complete lack of discomfort. Markman stood in front of John Paul, looking down at himself dressed for combat, the seam from shoulder to waist hanging open.

  “It won’t seal until the master computer is brought online,” said John Paul. “Should we proceed with the diagnostic’s test, or would you prefer to think about this a bit more?”

  Markman realized he hadn’t expected the moment of truth to arrive so quickly. Suddenly he was faced with pulling that helmet back over his head and reliving an unknown. Ironically, it was exactly what he had spent the larger part of his life training for. Life itself was an unknown no man could anticipate. This was almost a repeat of a threat he had faced long, long ago as a child when a teacher had asked him to dive in a pool beneath falls to recover a special ring. Legend said that a monster lived in those waters and had taken many men over the years. He had at first run away from that fear, but something greater than fear had driven him back. Through the fingers of the suit, Markman felt the outline of the ring on his right hand, the only item he refused to remove.

  “I guess if they’re ready out there we can give it a shot.”

  John Paul turned and pointed at the raster curtain. It disappeared. Cassiopia standing over a control console looked up and spotted Markman in the suit. She straightened up and walked over to the suit test area, stopping a few feet away.

  “I do believe the diagnostic’s mode is safe. Beyond that, I am withholding judgment.”

  “Then we should try it?” asked Markman.

  “Try it without entering a game,” replied Cassiopia. “You’ll be in a virtual room exactly like this one. There will be grids everywhere to measure your movement, nothing more. I can speak to you inside the suit in that mode.”

  “Then I guess I’m ready if you’re ready.”

  Cassiopia cast an irritated look of concern, then returned to her station by the computer. Shandra stood alongside, manipulating controls. They both looked over once more to be sure everything was as it should be. Shandra tapped in final commands. Cassiopia called out, “Online.”

  Markman thought to close up the open seam on the suit but watched in surprise as it closed itself from bottom to top. He glanced at John Paul and turned to bring down the helmet. With a last look at all of them, he raised it over his head and pulled it down into place. It slipped on easily, followed by a snapping and popping around the collar. His vision became one of total darkness and absolute silence. He could no longer see, hear, smell or feel anything in the outside world. He was totally cut off.

  Twenty or thirty seconds passed and nothing happened. He began to wonder if something was wrong. There was no sense in calling out. He waited. Finally, a gentle tone sounded in both ears. A tiny spot of white light appeared in the distance. It slowly grew. It filled his vision and in a flash suddenly became something more. Markman was standing in exactly the same test area he had been in, except now there were four walls, not three, and he was alone. Cassiopia’s reassuring voice came from above.

  “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. Loud and clear. It’s alright?”

  “It is. Try some movement. Walk around.”

  Markman turned in place and inspected his surroundings; a plain black room, well lighted with white luminous grids on the walls, ceiling, and floor. He ran in place for a moment and then moved around the room, touching each wall as he went.

  Cassiopia cut in. “Wow! This is amazing. You are duplicating the real world perfectly. Do you feel alright? Are you hot or cold?”

  “Perfect. No problem.”

  “We can inject imagery. Let’s start with something simple. What do you see behind you?”

  Markman turned to find an oak table in the center of the room. He went to it and touched the surface. It was rigid and stable.

  “It’s a table. I know it is not really there, but I can’t tell. I can feel it. How can I feel it?”

  Cassiopia answered, “The suit is putting pressure against your hand, and the computer is transmitting signals to your brain telling you it is a rigid surface. It’s amazing.”

  “What if I tried to sit on it?”

  “You would feel it, but you would fall to the ground as soon as you did. Want to try something else?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Okay, look behind you again.”

  Markman turned to find a duplicate of Cassiopia staring at him. She was dressed in a white gown covered in diamonds from head to foot. Her hair was bundled up in an elegant wrap atop her head. A diamond crown complimented the dress. She was represented in perfect detail. He could not distinguish her from the real thing.

  “How?”

  “The computer scanned me. That’s its impression of me.”

  Markman went to the image and touched it on the arm. It felt warm and soft and real. The fabric of the dress felt equally real. “This is exactly how I remember things,” said Markman.

  “Want to play something? They’ve found a bunch of test games in here.”

  “Okay, pick one.”

  The image of Cassiopia disappeared. On the table beside him, Markman watched as a racquet appeared. It was similar to a racquet ball racquet but glowed a fluorescent green around its borders. Next to it, a fluorescent green ball appeared. Markman picked up the racquet and ball. He could feel their weight and volume in his hands. The table disappeared and the image of someone in a hooded gray workout suit holding a racquet suddenly materialized nearby.

  “Your serve,” said Cassiopia.

  Without taking a ready stance, Markman batted the ball toward the far wall. It came bouncing back and the virtual opponent jumped to life. The computer opponent wailed the thing back at the wall so hard Markman had to turn away from the rebound. The ball caught Markman square in the lower back and ricocheted off, then rolled away across the floor.

  “Okay, ouch?” Markman rubbed his lower back. He stared at his opponent. The faceless opponent stood indifferently. “So the pain thing is turned on, I guess? You might have mentioned that.”

  Cassiopia’s laughter boomed in from above. “Scott, when the little green ball comes to you, you’re supposed to hit it with the racket.”

  “Very funny. Why don’t you come in here and try it?”

  No sooner had Markman spoken than he regretted it. The figure of his opponent suddenly changed into an image of Cassiopia in a black sweat suit, with headband, bent over holding a racket, ready.

  “Your serve,” said Cassiopia from overhead.

  Markman recovered the ball, took his position, and bounced it once. He could not detect any flaw in the simulation. It really seemed like he was bouncing and catching a ball. He smacked a serve but the virtual Cassiopia returned it with such speed it went by before he had a chance to reach for it.

  “My serve,” taunted Cassiopia from overhead.

  Markman glanced over to find her image already holding the ball. Without waiting, the virtual Cassiopia served with ferocity. Markman braced and this time got a piece of it, although it went wide and out.

  “One to goose egg,” said Cassiopia. Her image set immediately to serve once more. The game quickly became a challenge. The virtual Cassiopia served and returned so powerfully he could barely respond. He began to forget the sensesuit and the computer controlling it. His own senses focused fully on the computer world at hand. At 5-0 he finally caught a serve and returned it. It came back just as fast and got by him. 7-0 and he was returning every serve now, but still having trouble repositioning. Then, at 9-0, the game changed. Markman received a serve and ret
urned it off the ceiling. Cassiopia’s image seemed not to understand it. She jumped to the wrong position. The ball flew by low.

  Markman took possession of the service and kept it. With each return, he worked the ceiling or back or side walls. His opponent moved in frustration, unable to get an advantage on the ball. Within minutes the score was 8-8. On the next exchange something odd occurred. Markman lost his grip on the racket, a racquet that did not actually exist. It slipped from his hand and bounced on the floor. He collected it and assumed the ready position. Virtual Cassiopia’s serve. Her serve was low and just barely in. Markman could not pick it up. 10-8.

  For Markman, the outside world no longer existed. He was fully immersed in sensesuit reality. For him, it was as real as any world could be. He narrowed his stare and resumed a ready stance.

  The final three exchanges were wild. The ball careened off walls and ceiling more often than the floor. The virtual Cassiopia remained off-balance. No further comments came from overhead. At the last, Markman nailed a heavy return off the back wall, regained a defense position and waited for a ball that never arrived. The image of Cassiopia suddenly disappeared. Her voice came from overhead once more.

  “John Paul says that’s enough for now. Ready to disengage?”

  Markman leaned against a wall, bent over, gasping for breath. He straightened up to speak, decided he was not ready and bent back over. He was sweating profusely but the suit was drawing the moisture away and somehow removing it. Finally, he stood upright. “Ready.”

  A snapping, clicking, and hissing followed. The helmet suddenly became loose around his head. The chest seam on the suit fell open. Cool air rushed in against his wet chest. Markman carefully lifted the helmet off his head and turned to find Cassiopia and John Paul standing in front of him, smiling.

  “How was it?” asked Cassiopia affectionately.

  “Real,” replied Markman. He looked at John Paul for reaction.

  John Paul nodded in agreement. “Scott, I cannot tell you how stimulating it was to see the suit in action. All these months we have spent studying it but never having the opportunity to test it. My staff is jubilant. Everything worked just as we had anticipated. Quite a thrill to see that.”

  Markman peeled the suit down to his waist to let air circulate. “The control was there. I could anticipate everything the way you would expect. It takes a moment to accept it, but then you become totally a part of it. You believe it.”

  “The two of you should go and get some rest. Cassiopia has a few data tablets that will allow her to continue studying the system. We’ll need the rest of today to review all of what just happened. We can meet here tomorrow morning whenever you’re ready, and we’ll go over the results and decide how to proceed.”

  The three exchanged stares of friendship and newfound trust, but all three secretly knew that tomorrow would be the Aurora City.

  Chapter 5