The Reality Bug (9 page)

Finally they found themselves standing in front of an old, brick apartment building. It looked like a pretty nice neighborhood, with a view of the East River. There was a park across from the address with little kids running around and a bunch of guys playing touch football. Since it was September, the leaves were just beginning to show autumn colors. But the air was warm and the sky was the kind of deep blue that only showed up in the fall. The whole scene was about as normal and safe as could be.

Except that Mark and Courtney now had to find out what was waiting for them in apartment 5A. With a quick look at each other, they climbed the cement stairs that led to the entrance. The double door looked like it had about five hundred coats of black paint on it. Mark grabbed the brass handle and pulled it open, letting Courtney go in first. Inside was another set of doors, but these were locked. The only way to get in was to be buzzed in by a tenant. On the right wall was a gray metal panel that listed all of the occupants of the building. Mark and Courtney eagerly checked for 5A.

“‘Dorney,'” Mark said, reading the typed name. “Nothing weird about that.”

“What did you think it was going to say?” asked Courtney. “Acolyte Headquarters?”

In spite of his nervousness, Mark laughed. The two stood staring at the name. Next to it was a black button. Neither was quick to push it.

“What are we going to say?” Mark asked.

“How about: ‘Hi! We're here to interview for the acolyte position.'”

Mark gave Courtney a smirk. Before he could change his mind, he pushed the button. They waited. Nothing happened.

“Maybe they're out doing acolyte stuff,” Courtney offered.

Mark hit the button again. Still nothing. Mark then said, “I guess we should come back—”

“What?”
came a man's gruff voice from a speaker near the names.

Mark and Courtney shot each other a look. Courtney got her head together first and said, “Uh, Mr. Dorney?”

“Who is it?” the gruff voice demanded.

“Uh, my name's Courtney. I'm here with my friend Mark. We were wondering if—”

“Go away!” the man barked, and the speaker went dead.

“Now what?” Courtney asked.

Mark hit the button again.

“Whatever you're selling, I don't want any!” the voice growled at them.

“We're not selling anything,” Mark said politely. “We're here to talk to you about … uh … Bobby Pendragon.”

No response. Mark and Courtney exchanged looks again. Mark reached forward to hit the button one more time, but was jolted by the harsh sound of a buzzer.

“What's that?” Mark said nervously.

Courtney glanced at the door, then pushed it open.

“He just buzzed us in,” she answered. Courtney stood in the doorway, holding the door open. “Last chance,” she said.

“Don't say that,” Mark threw back. “I might change my mind.”

He took a quick breath, then turned and walked quickly past Courtney, through the door. Courtney followed, letting the door close behind them.

Next stop, apartment 5A.

The creaky elevator took them up
to the fifth floor. Mark and Courtney anxiously watched the numbers above the door light up as they ascended.

“What if it's Saint Dane?” Courtney blurted out nervously. “He could be, like, luring us in.”

“I thought about that,” Mark responded, almost as nervously. “But why would he bother with us? We're just a couple of kids.”

“Yeah,” said Courtney. “Two kids he could use to get even with Bobby.”

Mark shot Courtney a look. He hadn't thought of that. The elevator clunked to a stop and the doors slid open. Should they keep going?

“If he wanted to get us,” Mark said, trying to sound confident, “he wouldn't have to go through so much trouble.”

Courtney nodded and stepped out of the elevator. Mark was right behind her. The hallway was carpeted and pleasant looking. There were windows on either end that glowed with warm, autumn light. Under each was a table with a pretty flower arrangement. They were probably fake, but still made the place look homey. It wasn't a fancy place, but it wasn't run down either. There looked to be around a dozen apartment doors spaced evenly on either side of the corridor. All were painted glossy black like the front door. Each had a brass knocker with the apartment number engraved on a metal plate. Mark walked right and Courtney looked left in search of 5A. The “A” apartment was right next to the elevator.

“Go? No go?” Courtney asked.

Mark's answer was to reach for the brass knocker. He rapped twice. Not too hard as to sound insistent, but strong enough not to appear wussie. They heard the sound of footsteps inside shuffling toward the door. The person stopped, probably to peer out at Mark and Courtney through the peephole. Both of them sensed this, so they stood up straight, trying to look sincere. A moment later the door was unlatched and pulled open a crack. Just a crack. Mark and Courtney looked to each other as if to say: Now what? Courtney stepped forward and cautiously pushed the door open.

The first thing they saw was the back of a man shuffling away from them—an old guy, wearing a plaid shirt and khaki pants. His hair was gray and clipped short.

“Close the door,” he called without turning around.

Mark and Courtney stepped inside the apartment and closed the door. But not all the way. With a silent look, Courtney showed Mark that she was leaving the door open a hair, just in case they needed to make a quick getaway.

“Come on!” the man shouted at them impatiently. “You got this far, don't be shy now.”

Mark and Courtney walked cautiously after the man, staying close to each other for support, ready to bolt at the first hint of danger.

The apartment was normal enough. It looked exactly like the kind of apartment one would expect an old man to live in. The furniture was old, but in good shape. There were oil paintings of landscapes on the walls and framed photos of smiling people on polished mahogany tables. There wasn't a single modern touch to the whole place.

Two things stood out though. First was the books. There were thousands of them. In bookcases, on tables, in stacks that reached the ceiling. Whoever this guy was, he liked to read. The other thing was the plants. The apartment was like a greenhouse. There were dozens of potted plants, as well as viney tendrils, that traveled along the walls and across the bookcases every which way, with no beginning or end.

The apartment in general looked very clean, even with all the plants. This wasn't some slobby old guy who couldn't take care of himself. So far, Mark and Courtney learned that the guy was neat, he read a lot, and had a green thumb. None of that helped to solve the bigger mystery of who he was though.

“Sit down,” the old guy said while pointing to an overstuffed couch. He then shuffled over to an easy chair and slowly settled into it. Courtney and Mark didn't take their eyes off him. As he sat, he had to hold on to the arm for support, as if his legs weren't strong enough to do it on their own. The guy wasn't frail, but he wasn't going to run a marathon either. Mark and Courtney did as they were told and sat next to each other on the couch. Both thought it had the vague smell of mothballs. Neither mentioned it.

Now that they were facing each other, they saw that the old man wore small, wire-rim glasses. His short gray hair was almost military in style. He sat with incredibly great posture, which made both Mark and Courtney sit up straight as well. He stared at them with a steady gaze, as if sizing them up. The guy may have been old, but he looked sharp.

Mark got the ball rolling. “I'm M-Mark Dimond.”

“And I'm Courtney Chetwynde.”

A long moment went by. The man kept staring at them. Finally he asked, “Why do you care?”

Mark and Courtney exchanged confused looks.

“About what?” Courtney asked.

“You're here, aren't you?” the man said. “Why do you care?”

Mark said, “W-We got your address—”

“I know that,” snapped the old man. “You wouldn't be here if you hadn't. What I want to know is, why?”

There was no nonsense about this guy. He didn't care about being polite or pleasant or anything else that would have put a visitor at ease.

“We're here because we want to help our friend, Bobby Pendragon,” Mark said.

“Good,” said the man quickly. “Why?”

“He's our friend,” Courtney chimed in. “Isn't that enough?”

“Depends,” answered the man.

“On what?” Courtney shot back.

“On whether or not you're willing to die for him.”

Whoa. The tension in the room had just jumped a few dozen notches. The old man didn't even blink. Mark and Courtney didn't know how to respond.

And then Mark's ring began to twitch.

He quickly looked at his hand. Courtney saw it too. The gray stone was beginning to change color. Mark shot his other hand over the ring to hide it.

Too late.

“Take it off!” ordered the old man.

Mark looked at him, his panic rising.

“I said take it off! Put it on the table.”

Mark didn't have a choice because the ring had already begun to grow. He pulled it off his finger and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. Bright light blasted from the stone, dazzling the apartment. The ring quickly grew until it was the size of a frisbee, revealing the dark hole inside. Then came the musical notes. After a final blast of light and music, the ring returned to normal.

Mark and Courtney looked to the table to see what the ring had delivered. Sitting there was another small, silver hologram projector. Bobby had just sent his next journal. It was a totally awkward moment. Mark grabbed his ring, swiped up the journal, and stood up.

“This was a mistake,” he said nervously. “We're outta here.”

Mark turned for the door. Courtney didn't know what else to do, so she followed him.

“Stop right there!” the old man demanded as he struggled to his feet.

Mark turned and faced him head-on. “L-Look, mister,” Mark said with passion. “We came here for answers, and all we're getting are questions. Well, you know what? I don't trust you. Why should I? If you think we're going to sit here and get grilled and threatened, then you'd better give us a good reason why, or we're gone.”

Courtney gave Mark a quick look, as if surprised he had that in him. She looked back to the old man and added, “Yeah!”

The old man held their gaze, then slowly nodded. He turned away from them and walked over to a cabinet that was built into the wall.

“My name is Tom Dorney,” he said firmly. “I've lived in this apartment for near fifty years. I'm not married. Never was. I have two sisters and three nephews.” Dorney took a key ring out of his pocket and unlocked the cabinet door. He swung it wide to reveal several metal boxes, each about two-foot square.

“I served in the military for twenty years,” he continued. “Saw action in World War Two. South Pacific.” He pulled one of the boxes out of the cabinet and carried it over to the coffee table. It looked heavy, but neither Mark nor Courtney made a move to help. He didn't look like he wanted or needed any.

“These boxes are fireproof,” he explained. “This whole place could burn to the ground and nothing would happen to what's inside.” Dorney took another key from the ring and unlocked the box. He gave one more look to Mark and Courtney, as if debating whether or not to open it.

He then said, “And I'm an acolyte. You want proof of that?”

Mark and Courtney nodded dumbly.

Dorney lifted the lid on the box to reveal it was full of papers. Some were in folders, others were rolled up scrolls that were tied with twine. Mark and Courtney stared down at them in wonder.

Mark said, “Are those? …”

“They're the journals of a Traveler,” Dorney answered.

“Which Traveler?” Courtney asked.

“They were written by my best friend, Press Tilton.”

Dorney then raised his hand to show he wore a ring just like Mark's. “I brought you two here because I'm getting old, and need help. Now, my question still stands. Why do you care? If I don't get the right answer, you can walk right back out that door. I don't care what that Pendragon kid thinks about you.”

H
ey, guys. Getting used to watching me like this yet?

It's weird, after Lifelight, the idea of recording myself as a hologram seems pretty low tech. Lifelight is an incredible invention … that's also incredibly dangerous. The thing is, I'm afraid Saint Dane knows that, and we may not be able to stop him from taking advantage of it. I'm serious. We may already be too late to save Veelox. But I'm not ready to give up yet. Aja and I have come up with a plan. To pull it off I'm going to have to jump back into Lifelight. To be honest, it scares the hell out of me because this time it won't be the wonderful, fantasy visit back home like before.

This jump is going to be hairy.

I know, I'll bet you're thinking: How hairy can it be if it's all taking place in my mind? Well, the mind is pretty powerful. So is imagination. Trust me. I've just seen what can happen when things go bad. It isn't pretty. I don't want to risk jumping again, but I don't see any way around it. I've got to go back in. I know what has to be done.

I think.

Let me tell you what brought me to the point of having to make this insane trip back into Lifelight… .

After my first jump I was thinking Lifelight was pretty cool. Going home and spending time with my family and kicking some serious butt against Easthill High was excellent, even if it was just an illusion. I'm sure this is hard to understand, but while I was in Lifelight, I sort of forgot that it was fake. The experience was so real, my brain wanted to believe it actually was. Or at least my heart did. Does that make sense? It would if you had been there.

But then I left the jump and witnessed the death of a fellow jumper. That made it pretty clear that Lifelight wasn't without risks. When Aja found me after her debriefing, I began to learn what those risks were.

“I'll take you to my home,” she declared as she hurried into the office where I was recording my journal. “We'll have something to eat and I'll continue your education.”

Education. Wow-wee. Aja really liked showing me what a brain she was. Lucky me.

“What happened to that jumper?” I asked. “Why did he die?”

“It happens,” she said quickly. “There are a lot of people in the pyramid.”

“But you said it's happening more often.”

“It was an accident, all right!” she snapped. “I told you, things are under control here.”

Yikes. She was a raw nerve. Things didn't seem like they were under control at all. But it wouldn't help to argue. Without another word, Aja left the office. I guessed she expected me to follow, so I did.

We left the Lifelight pyramid and went back to the three-wheeled vehicle that had brought us here. We climbed aboard and started pedaling along the quiet street. There were a million questions I wanted to ask about Lifelight and how it worked and why she was so sure Saint Dane's plan was doomed to failure and, for that matter, what the heck Saint Dane's plan
was
. But I didn't think it was a good time to grill her. She looked pretty upset. As she pedaled the odd bicycle, she stared ahead with a vacant look that told me her mind was miles away.

I was faced with a real dilemma. From all I've described to you, it must be clear that Aja wasn't the easiest person to get along with. She had a quick temper that flashed nasty the instant someone challenged her. She was a proud person, and totally brainy. And she took every chance she could to prove it. That was the exact opposite of somebody like, say, Uncle Press. Uncle Press knew pretty much everything about everything, but never rubbed it in your face. I think that came from confidence. With Aja, I got the feeling that beneath it all, she wasn't totally sure of herself, which is why she was always trying to demonstrate her brilliance.

But she was the Traveler from Veelox and we had to get along. If she was right and Saint Dane's plan was already derailed, then everything was cool. We didn't have to be friends and I could be on my way. But after hearing from Saint Dane about how he had already won on Veelox, and learning how Lifelight might have some problems, I had some serious doubts. I was pretty sure Aja and I were going to have to learn how to work together, and it was up to me to make that happen.

“Did you grow up here?” I asked, trying to make small talk.

“Yes.”

“In Rubic City?”

“Yes.”

“When did you find out you were a Traveler?”

“Two years ago.”

She wasn't exactly being talkative. But I kept trying.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Wow, are all the phaders so young?” “You want my life story, Pendragon?” she snapped suddenly. “Here it is. From the time I was a baby I was raised in a group home. I never knew my parents. To this day I don't know if I was taken from them or given up for training.”

Whoa. Lots of baggage in that one little sentence. I wasn't sure which topic to go after first.

“Training?” I finally asked. I figured it was less emotional than the whole “raised in a group home” thing.

“The directors find gifted babies and train them to become phaders and vedders. From the time I was old enough to sit up, I was at a key panel learning how to write code. I was a full-time phader by the time I was twelve. Now I'm a senior group leader.”

This was good. She was opening up. “Who are the directors?” I asked.

“They make all the decisions when it comes to Lifelight. But to answer your question, yes. All the phaders are young. The vedders, too. The directors want the sharpest minds possible at the controls. But it's more than that. As people grow older, they want to spend their time jumping, not monitoring. By the time a phader gets to be twenty-five, they pretty much take themselves offline.”

“And do what?”

Aja didn't answer. Instead, she looked around. I took the cue and looked around too. What I saw was … a deserted city. Like I described before, it pretty much looked like any city on Second Earth, except there were no people. Garbage kicked around in the wind and collected in alleyways. Glass windows were so grimy there was no way to see through them. Vehicles were parked along the curb, but many sat tilted on flat tires. I had the feeling that at one time this was a busy place.

I was starting to understand the problem.

“They're all in Lifelight, aren't they?” I asked softly.

“Why would they live anywhere else when they can create the life of their dreams?” was Aja's sharp reply.

“Is it like this everywhere?” I asked. “I mean, other than Rubic City?”

“It's the whole territory, Pendragon,” she said. “Reality on Veelox only exists to support the fantasy.” She then looked right at me. “That's why Saint Dane thinks he's won. This territory is about to fall apart, and we have nobody to blame but ourselves.”

It made all sorts of sense. If nobody wanted to live in reality, then of course the territory would crumble. It made me think of a guy we used to go to school with. Remember Eddie Ingalls? He got caught up in playing one of those online fantasy games. He'd stay in his room on the computer for hours. I don't think he even slept very much, especially on the weekends. He ended up spending so much brain time playing that game, he lost most of his friends because he never wanted to come out and do anything. Then he started messing up in school. I'm not sure what happened to him, but I think his parents had to send him away to some kind of special school to help him catch up with real life. Well, what happened to Eddie Ingalls is what was happening on Veelox … times about eight billion.

The idea staggered me. My pulse started to race. We had lost Veelox before we had the chance to save it!

“Then Saint Dane was right,” I declared. “We're too late. He
has
won!”

“Relax,” Aja said sternly. “I told you, I've got things under control.”

“Control? I'm seeing a lot of things here.
Control
isn't one of them! This city is falling apart. How long until Lifelight itself crashes? That's what'll happen, you know. Is that why jumpers are dying? Is that the future of Veelox? Are all the jumpers going to die in the middle of their fantasies because nobody bothers to take care of reality? We've got to get them out of there! Maybe we can pull the plug and force them to wake up! It's the only way they can—”

“Stop!” Aja shouted, and slammed on the brakes. I rocked forward, nearly launching out the front. Aja stared at me with such anger that I thought my brain would melt.

“I am trying to teach you about what's happening here,” she said sternly. “We can't just ‘pull the plug' and tell everybody to go back to their normal lives, though I'm sure you wish it were that easy. Salvation here can be found in only one place: the imagination. If you can't understand that, you might as well flume out right now.”

I had to calm down. Though common sense told me otherwise, I had to believe Aja knew what she was talking about. The technology on Veelox was totally alien to me. If she said things were under control, I had to give her the benefit of the doubt. At least for a while, anyway.

“I'm sorry,” I said, forcing myself to chill. “I'd like to stay and learn more about Veelox.”

Aja stared at me. I wasn't sure if she was going to throw me out or take my head off again. Or both. Luckily she did neither. She started to pedal again. We didn't say another word until we arrived at her home.

Aja lived in a beautiful building on a quiet, tree-lined street. Did I say “quiet”? Hah, everything here was quiet. Her building was three stories high and made of brick. It looked like a millionaire's home. Completing the picture, the street was lined with huge, leafy trees that gave the neighborhood an inviting, parklike feel.

“Do all the phaders live in places this nice?” I asked as we walked up the marble steps to the entrance.

“They live pretty much anywhere they want” was her reply. “Most of the homes are abandoned. This place belongs to one of the directors. The prime director, actually, Dr. Kree Sever.”

“Nice of him to let you live here,” I said.

“It's not a him, it's a her,” Aja corrected me. “And Dr. Sever couldn't care less. She's been on a Lifelight jump for over a year.”

A year. Unbelievable.

She opened the heavy door and we entered the mansion.

“I'll be right back,” she said, and ran up the stairs to the second floor.

The mansion was beautiful inside, too. There was a large entryway with thick, ornate carpets. A stairway led up to the second floor with a fancy wooden banister that was polished and gleaming. A hallway led deeper into the house with rooms off to either side. A quick glance showed me that the rooms were big, with high ceilings. It stunned me to think that somebody who lived in such a beautiful place would abandon it to live in a fantasy world. But then again, maybe the mansion Dr. Sever had in her fantasy was twice as nice. Or maybe she had twelve mansions. If it was a fantasy, she could have whatever she wanted.

As I looked around, something felt a little bit off. It was because the place was totally clean. I mean, immaculate eat-off-the-floor clean. The wood was polished, the crystal cases of knickknacks sparkled, and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. Rubic City was a falling-down mess because nobody cared, but this place was spotless. I couldn't imagine Aja taking the time to be so neat. Who was taking care of the place?

My answer came right away.

“You must be Bobby Pendragon!” came a warm voice from deeper in the house.

I looked to see an older woman hurrying toward me. She was the perfect image of a way-cool grandmother. Her gray hair was long and tied back in a ponytail, much like Aja's. She wore a deep blue sweater, dark pants, and black boots … no granny—style dresses for this lady. She hurried up to me and held out her hand. I took it, not sure of how hard to shake. But her grip was solid. This lady may have been old, but she still had it going on.

“Oh, this is silly, give me a hug,” she said.

Before I could react, she pulled me in and gave me a strong hug. I figured it would be quick, but she surprised me by squeezing tight and holding on. It was totally awkward. I wasn't sure if I should hug back or not. We hadn't even been introduced.

“I was so sorry to hear about Press,” she said. “He was a wonderful man.”

Okay, now I got it. She was being sympathetic about my uncle. I still felt awkward, but a little less so. She then held me at arm's length and said, “You are exactly as he described you.”

The woman had kind eyes, with a hint of sadness.

“Thanks,” I said. “Uncle Press was a great guy.”

“We're all going to miss him.” She then smiled and said, “Come. You're just in time for dinner.”

Dinner. Excellent. I hadn't eaten since I had breakfast with you guys back on Second Earth. The fantasy pizza in Lifelight didn't count. The woman held my hand and led me toward the back of the house.

“You didn't tell me your name,” I said.

The woman laughed warmly. “I am so rude. It's Evangeline. I'm Aja's aunt.”

Whoa. That didn't compute.

“Aunt? I thought Aja didn't know her family.”

“Well, I'm not her real aunt. Not by blood, anyway. I worked in the group home where Aja was raised. Still do. I love all the children, but there was something special about Aja. When it was time for her to leave, it was like losing a child of my own. So we decided to move in together and, here we are.”

“Your house is beautiful,” I said, figuring it was the kind of thing an older lady would like to hear.

“Thank you, but it's not really ours,” she said in a whisper, as if it were a secret. “I don't think Dr. Sever is coming back anytime soon, but I make sure to keep the place tidy just in case. Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”