The Reality Bug (29 page)

“Y
ou can't be Zetlin,” I said. “Dr. Zetlin is seventy years old.”

“Seventy-nine, to be exact,” the kid-racer answered.

Loor and I shot each other a confused look.

“This is my fantasy,” Zetlin continued. “Why would I live it as an old man?”

I asked, “So, the guy lying in the Alpha Core—”

“That would be my physical body that's seventy-nine years old,” Zetlin answered. “But in here I'm a strapping sixteen. The more interesting question is, who are you two?”

After all we had been through to get here, I had to force my brain to shift gears and remember the message Aja had for him.

“We're here because Lifelight is in trouble,” I said. “A virus has corrupted the processing code. We need the origin code to clean the string.”

I was pretty sure that was the right message. For a second I feared it made no sense to him because Zetlin gave me a strange look. But then he turned to the other racers and said brightly, “Good race, guys! Later, all right?”

The other racers all said, “Yeah. Later! See ya, Z!” and skated off.

Zetlin then turned to us and said sternly, “Come with me.”

He pulled the skate pads from his boots and stalked off. Loor and I followed right behind. It was weird. When Zetlin spoke to us, he sounded like a serious adult. But when he talked to the racers, he sounded like an excited kid. I guess his fantasy was all about reliving his youth. Whatever. All we needed was the origin code. His fantasies were his business.

“I must say, I'm impressed you two made it this far,” Zetlin said. “Usually phaders don't make it past the jungle. What are your names?”

“I'm Pendragon,” I answered. “This is Loor.”

“Why are you hiding in this building?” Loor asked.

Uh-oh. I wasn't sure if challenging the guy was a good idea. We needed him on our side. But since the question was pure Loor, I figured I didn't have a choice.

“The Barbican is my refuge from a world I want nothing to do with,” Zetlin answered. He then stopped and faced us. “And I don't like being disturbed. But you two were willing to play on my terms. You've earned the right to an audience. This way.”

Who did he think he was? Some kind of king? I figured it wasn't my place to question him either, so I let it go. There were bigger problems to deal with.

Zetlin walked toward a wall of ice. I wasn't exactly sure where he was going until I saw a small black disk sticking out of the wall at waist level. Zetlin pulled on the disk and opened a door made of ice. Beyond was a small room with light blue, metallic walls. He motioned for us to enter. I figured we had come this far, we couldn't chicken out now. So Loor and I stepped inside. The room was no bigger than an elevator, and that's what it turned out to be. An elevator. Zetlin joined us inside, closed the door, touched a control button on the wall and we started up.

“I'm confused,” I said. “I thought Lifelight had to follow the rules of reality. This Barbican thing is about as far from reality as I can imagine.”

“That's because you don't have my imagination,” Zetlin answered with a chuckle.

Good answer. Zetlin definitely had an exceptional mind. I suppose it followed that his fantasy could be just as exceptional.

“The people of Veelox haven't even begun to tap Lifelight's capabilities,” Zetlin continued. “But they will.”

“No, they won't,” I countered. “Veelox is falling apart because everybody is living inside their own fantasy worlds.”

If this news bothered Zetlin, he didn't show it. The elevator slowed to a stop and the door opened. Zetlin stepped out first, and we followed him into a space that I can best describe as the dream home for a fifteen-year-old guy. I should know. I'm a fifteen-year-old guy and I thought the place was awesome.

The space was huge, but divided up into smaller sections so it didn't feel like an airplane hangar or anything. The ceiling was made of clear glass, so we could see the sky and the last of the storm clouds passing through. That meant we were now on the top floor of the Barbican.

We first walked through a wood-floored arena that reminded me of a basketball court. But this was Veelox. Their version of basketball had soccer-style nets on each of the four walls, and green balls that looked twice the size of a basketball.

Zetlin led us across the empty court, through a door, and into another space that had the Veelox version of a game I remembered playing as a kid. You know that game where you have to knock over wooden pegs set up on a table by swinging a ball on the end of a string? I think it was called Skittles. Well, this was like Skittles, only life-size. There were five giant balls, all hanging from ropes in the center of a round court. Instead of pegs, the idea was to knock over people. I'm serious. There was a game under way with ten kids in the center of the big court, and another ten around the circle. The kids around the outside would grab the ball and swing it into the center to try and hit one of the kids inside. Some of the kids inside really got clocked, too. It was like nasty dodgeball. I wasn't sure if it was fun or torture.

“Hey, guys,” Zetlin called out. “Game's over. Let's play tomorrow, okay?”

Zetlin even used kid slang that sounded like Second Earth, but I guess that was because my Traveler brain interpreted it from whatever was the kid slang version of the language they spoke on Veelox.

“Yeah. Okay! See ya later, Z!” the players all shouted as they jogged off the court, headed for the elevator.

“You enjoy playing child games,” Loor said.

“Indeed,” Zetlin answered. “It relaxes me to play simple games of skill and chance.”

He led us next into what looked more like living space. It was modern, with a lot of big, comfortable couches of all colors. There were giant screens on the wall that I'd bet anything were for video games. It looked like we had just missed a big party. Plates and cups were scattered everywhere. All had half eaten leftovers of I don't know what. The only thing I knew for sure was that it wasn't gloid. There were a couple of older guys wearing green jumpsuits who were cleaning the place up.

One of them saw us and said, “We'll have the place tidy in no time, Z.”

“Take your time,” Zetlin responded. “I don't think we'll have anybody over again today.”

Wow. He had servants cleaning up after him too. Could this place get any better?

It could.

We stepped into a modern kitchen that was full of incredible smells. A dozen chefs were scurrying around, busily cooking and frying and baking and … man, my stomach rumbled. I had only been eating gloid for the last few days. The idea of real food sounded pretty good right about now.

A woman chef hurried up to Zetlin with a tray of freshly baked cookies. “Can I tempt you, Z?” she asked.

Zetlin nodded for us to try the cookies. I didn't want to be rude, so I took one. Who am I kidding? They smelled great. I wanted ten. But I only took one and it was delicious. It was sweet and gooey and tasted like chocolate. Loor ate one too. I could tell by the look on her face that she liked it as much as I did. As if reading my mind, another chef appeared with two glasses that I really hoped had the Veelox version of milk. What is it about milk that tastes so good with chocolate? The liquid was creamy colored, and I'm not sure if it was milk, but it sure tasted great.

“Thank you,” I said to the chefs.

“Yes, thank you,” Loor added.

Zetlin smiled and led us on. As soon as we stepped through the door into the next section, I knew this was our ultimate destination. One whole wall was made of glass, which meant we could look out onto the strange city of black buildings. The opposite wall held a computer console that looked very much like the Alpha Core in the Lifelight pyramid. This place wasn't about fun and games. This was where Dr. Zetlin worked. This was where we needed to be.

“First things first,” Zetlin said. He walked to the control chair and hit a few buttons on the arm controller. The building rumbled. It felt like an earthquake.

“What is happening?” Loor asked, crouching down and ready for trouble.

“Don't worry,” Zetlin answered. “I'm returning the Barbican to position number one.”

The walls began to move. I realized that the massive building was turning back onto its side! We heard the grinding sound of metal wheels activating and straining under the massive load. Loor and I both looked around for something to grab on to for balance.

Zetlin laughed, “Please, don't panic. The floors rotate inside the structure. We'll remain level.”

Sure enough, as the wall moved, what had been the glass ceiling became the wall. A new glass ceiling appeared which was previously the far wall. Even though we weren't actually moving, all this rotating made me dizzy. The only way I could keep from falling over was to look out at the city. The city didn't move. That proved the building was rotating around us while the floor stayed level. Amazing. A few seconds later, the building shuddered and it was over. A quick look around told me that nothing seemed to have changed.

“The building is on its side again?” I asked.

“Yes,” Zetlin answered. “All the floors are perfect cubes. That's how they can rotate within the frame of the Barbican. The only thing different now is that each floor is side by side with the next. In position one, there is no need to climb between floors. Everything is on one level.”

“Why do you make this building turn like it does?” Loor asked.

“To keep out the uninvited, of course,” Zetlin answered.

That meant us, but I wasn't going to start apologizing now. I walked over to the glass wall and gazed out at the dreary, black city.

“I don't get it,” I said. “Why do you have that city out there? You could create any world you want. I'm sorry for saying this, but this whole setup is totally strange.”

Zetlin joined me at the window and looked out. “This city is a reminder,” he said softly.

“Of what?” I asked.

“Of life before Lifelight.”

“I don't understand,” I said. “Is this where you lived?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Zetlin answered. “I was born and raised in Rubic City. It was a busy, thriving community, but I was never a part of it. I was too—what was the word they used?—I was too
special
to be part of the life everyone else knew.”

It was strange listening to Zetlin. He looked like a sixteen-year-old kid, but his words were that of a sad old man. It was kind of creepy.

“The directors recognized my genius from the time I was an infant,” he continued. “They predicted my superior intellect could change the future of Veelox.” He looked at me and chuckled. “They were right.”

“Then you did not live an ordinary life?” Loor asked.

“Oh, no!” Zetlin answered quickly. “I lived an extraordinary life. I was surrounded by the greatest scientific minds available. They were my teachers, but soon became my pupils. They marveled at my theories of neural-electric compatibility. It was the theory that broke down the artificial wall between thought and reality. By the time I was eight, we created the first prototype of Lifelight. It was crude, but we were able to generate visual images driven solely by brain function. That was the moment. The breakthrough. From then on, it was simply about growth.”

“But what was your life like?” I asked. “I mean, yeah, you were a genius and all, but it sounds a little … I don't know … not fun.”

Zetlin didn't answer. He simply looked out the window. It was slowly coming clear to me. Aja told me what it was like to grow up as a phader. Every minute was spent learning and being trained. There was no time for warmth or friendship. My guess was that Dr. Zetlin's life had been like that, times about a thousand. This horrible, black city was the image Zetlin had of his life. His real life.

I had been wrong to think Zetlin's fantasy was about reliving his youth. It was about having the childhood he was denied. This building he called the Barbican was his second chance at being a kid.

“I had a goal,” he finally said. “I worked on Lifelight for sixty years. It consumed me morning and night. But I kept going because I knew it would be my only chance to escape.” He pointed out through the glass. “That city. That dark, rainy cold city is there as a reminder of what life once was, and of why I will never leave the Barbican.”

I felt bad for the guy. His life was a fantasy. He had no memories of real live friends or loved ones. Everything important to him was made up in his head. Worse than that, I was going to have to tell him that it wouldn't last.

“We need your help, Dr. Zetlin,” I said.

Zetlin pulled himself away from the window. He was suddenly a young boy again, full of energy. He hurried to the control chair and plopped down in it.

“Right,” he said. “You said something about a virus corrupting the processing code. That, I'm afraid, is impossible.”

He hit a few keys on his controller and a stream of data appeared on the large monitor overhead.

“It's not impossible,” I insisted. “The virus has totally infected Lifelight. It mutates people's thoughts. Instead of giving them the ideal experience, it finds what they're afraid of and hurts them. The phaders had to suspend the grid or a lot of people would—”

“They suspended the grid?” Zetlin asked in surprise.

“Yes! All over Veelox, people are in limbo waiting—”

“I know what it means,” Zetlin snapped at me. He hit a few more keys and examined more data. He then stood up and announced, “I see no evidence of anything wrong.”

“That's because your jump is isolated,” I said. “Look, I'm on shaky ground here. I don't really know how this works.”

“Then what are you doing here?” he demanded. “What kind of phader are you?”

“We're not phaders,” I answered nervously. “We're here to tell you that unless we get the origin code, millions of people across Veelox are going to die.”