A notification popped up on Dallen’s interface. He let the back of his mind focus on it while keeping his attention on the podium. It was a message from Frisco wishing him good luck. Dallen began forming a response.
Thx man. Wait to cheer till I finish lol.
As if I’ll cheer at all lol.
R.I.P.
Dallen set his lower conscious to the task of going over his notes again, all the while focusing on the ceremony. He had graduated top of his class and had spent weeks preparing a speech. The crowd clapped as Frisco danced his way to the podium to receive his diploma. Frisco had always been a clown, and everyone had expected a show from him today.
It was almost time. Dallen pulled up his profile customization view and went over how he looked one last time. Jet black hair slicked back, not too long but not too short, thin eyebrows, decorative marks on his cheek and forehead, and blue pupils with lighter blue irises. He had never liked facial hair unless it was perfectly trimmed, right at the base of the chin and reaching above the mouth. Any thicker or bushier and it looked unprofessional. Such a specific beard cost a pretty penny and took a while to update. And while Dallen was not poor, he was not the kind of person to spend half their earnings trying to prove themselves through their looks. He scaled his eyebrows up just a tad; he wanted to look elegant but also serious. After today, he would have to get a job and wanted anyone who might be watching to know that he wasn’t like the other graduates; he was a professional. He had been chosen to become a health software consultant and developer. This meant that he would be working with people, teaching them how to program their bodies to operate at maximum health efficiency. He would also be developing new ways to make staying healthy easier. Normally, when someone got sick, it took countless upgrades and software patches to get rid of whatever bug or virus they’d been infected with. During his college career, he had researched a new technique he was calling the Ophiocord Antivirus. It was based off an ancient fungus that had been known to infect ants and zombify them. The technique operated by attaching itself to the malware, and then creating a counteracting code to transform it into a program that would protect the body from another attack of the same sort. It had attracted attention from many employers in the field, so Dallen was expecting a job offer the moment he graduated.
He finished perfecting his looks just as it was time to take the stage. He mounted the podium, trying his best to look humble and grateful despite how proud he was to be the top contender in one of the largest colleges in the unified world. As he prepared for his speech he turned his voice projection to one hundred percent, and the audience turned their volume up to listen to what he had to say. Dozens of eyes started to record, some of them live streaming to their social media accounts, and some simply saving the moment. He could see the online forums talking about graduation and their experiences in college. Emails were being sent, messages whizzing across the room, and online conversations being carried out on a graduate’s selfie she had spent thousands of digital credits perfecting and upgrading in preparation for this ceremony.
“My fellow collegians! My fellow graduates!”
The crowd cheered and began to post and comment on his looks and the execution of his speech.
“I am honored to have known you for these short two years.”
He took a dramatic pause and surveyed his audience, gauging their enthusiasm compared to what he had anticipated. He prepared to deliver his next line with a little more enthusiasm and dramatic effect.
“If I’ve learned anything throughout my college career it’s—” his interface began to flicker. Gray lines flashed across it.
“It’s that you—” it suddenly became hard to focus. He forgot all that he was going to say and just stood there, confused and upset.
Seriously? A bug, now?
He had spent hours making sure he would be clean for his speech; there was no way a virus could have slipped past his firewall. The crowd didn’t look alarmed or startled, instead, they stared at the podium with a blank expression. Suddenly something popped up on Dallen’s interface in large red text.
404 ERROR
What? 404…
Dallen racked his brain, searching for any data regarding a 404 error. Despite his excessive knowledge of viruses and errors, he had no information about it in his databases. Was it a new virus? He ran a quick debugging.
(Not responding)
He opened his task manager.
(Not responding)
What’s going on?
A ringing burst out in his ear, he tried to turn his volume down but the sound just got louder and louder. His ears felt like they were going to explode. Everything began to grow dark and his display flickered and faded, leaving him with a gray and open view of the graduation ceremony. Then it all went dark.
He put his hands to his head and didn’t feel the slick hair and smooth skin he had felt just moments ago. Instead, he felt metal, tubes, and cold, clammy, sweating skin. He reached for his eyes but felt some sort of plate or device covering them. He grabbed it and started to pull. It hurt, it hurt like nothing he had ever felt before. The device tugged at his eyeballs, threatening to rip them out of their sockets. Finally, it loosened and broke off.
At last, he could see.
But what he saw made him consider putting the device back over his eyes. He stood in a gray room. It was the same room the ceremony had been in, but different. He judged that it was about the same size, and had the same architectural features, but lacked any of the vibrant colors or decorations. Even the floor and walls had lost the wood and stone texture that had been there just moments ago. They were replaced by a bland, whitish-gray color. Then he saw the audience. The people. Before him, in their chairs or standing at attention were thousands of people, people he once knew. He looked to where Frisco had been sitting. What he saw was a small man, dressed in a simple gray uniform. The uniform looked more like pajamas or a prisoner’s garb than the silky garment he had been wearing. On his head was a large device covering his eyes, the same one Dallen had just recently pulled off himself. The lower half of his mouth was covered in some type of metal with two tubes coming from each side of his upper jaw. Dallen touched his hand to his jaw and felt the coldness of the metal and the soft tubes. He also realized that his ears were covered by something as well. Just like his friend, he had tubes and cords coming from the top of his head and running down to his upper back. Dallen surveyed the room and found that they were all the same. Not a single one of them had a hair on their head or had any more or less machinery glued to their faces.
Dallen then realized with horror that the ceremony was proceeding. At first, he didn’t know why he was so horrified. But then he understood it was because they no longer saw him. They moved and clapped as if Dallen had never gone up to give a speech. He tried shouting, which to his surprise took tremendous effort, but to no avail. He was invisible, voiceless, and intangible.
What is this?
Giving in to the despair that gripped his heavily beating heart, he sank to the ground. He began to feel his head lose all weight, and his stomach seemed to rise in protest of his circumstances. This was something he had never experienced, and it crippled his usually composed state of mind. He tried to steady himself, but his arms and legs refused to obey him, and he finally collapsed into a pitiful slump on the podium.
The darkness began to clear.
“I’m telling you, something’s happening. This is the third one this month.”
“I know, we need to keep the door open.”
“But with this much activity, they’re sure to find us.”
“Shh, he’s awake.”
Dallen saw two blurry shapes approaching him. His eyes began to focus, and the two forms began to take a human shape. Once his full vision returned he saw two people. They weren’t like the people he’d seen all his life. They were imperfect. Their hair was not trimmed to perfection, and their skin looked dirty and rough. Yet there was a certain beauty he couldn’t deny or overlook. It was a natural beauty, one that didn’t come from an upgrade or update. One of them stepped forward. He was a man a little under six feet, he had a brownish somewhat bushy beard, and matching brown hair pulled back into a small scraggly ponytail. His voice was rough and raw.
“Take it easy son.” The man held up his hands in a reassuring way.
“My name is Trygg. You’re safe now.” He held his hand out, offering a welcoming handshake. As Dallen shook it, it felt so much more genuine than any other handshake he had partaken in. Dallen looked around himself and found that he wasn’t in the auditorium. He was on a bed, inside a much smaller room with dirty walls and very little decoration. It looked like it had been some kind of professional setting at one time but had long since been turned into a living space.
What’s happening? Where am I?
Dallen tried to form his thoughts into a vocal expression, but no sound came out of his mouth. The way they talked looked as normal as ever, but when he tried to answer, his mouth would just stutter open and release inhuman, pathetic mumblings.
“It’s ok, don’t try to talk. Just listen.” Trygg said, trying to comfort Dallen. The woman just sat there, seemingly annoyed at his inability to perform such a basic human ability. Her dark, short hair seemed to emulate her aggressive and resilient nature.
“Mara, get him something to eat, will you?” Dallen had begun to stumble forward; Trygg caught him and sat him back on the bed. Mara went to a very bare cabinet and pulled out a stale looking piece of bread.
“Eat up.” She tossed it onto Dallen’s lap. He responded by staring blankly at the bread as tears softly streamed down his cheeks.
“I know what you’re going through son.” Trygg sat down beside him on the bed and tried to comfort him. “It’s not easy, having everything you know stripped away from you in an instant,” Trygg said softly as Dallen looked at his frail and shaking hands. “Your body hasn’t grown the way a human is supposed to, so it’s going to take time to fully adjust to reality.” He handed Dallen a notepad and a pen.
“You do know how to use this don’t you?”
Dallen nodded.
What’s happened to me? Dallen struggled to grip the pen tight enough and had to scratch out his first attempt and try again. The second time, his sentence was understandable, but most definitely not something to be proud of.
Trygg sighed.
“Well kid, before I explain it, I want you to take a guess.” He waited for Dallen to start scribbling.
Do I have a virus? Dallen calmly wrote this line and then looked Trygg square in the eyes. He had always valued straightforward answers rather than roundabouts that usually ended up wasting everyone’s time.
Trygg shook his head.
“That’s what most people say when they wake up.”
Wake up?
“Yeah, wake up. In a way, you’ve been asleep.” He got up and walked over to a box in the corner of the room and pulled out the device that had clung to Dallen’s face. “You see, hundreds of years ago, somebody developed a technology that was capable of total immersion into a virtual world. With this thing hooked up to your eyes, you could see what you wanted to see, or as it turned out, what someone else wanted you to see.” He turned the mask around to reveal many tubes and cords that had once been plugged into Dallen’s head.
“Using these, they could access your brain and feed you all the sensory information needed to get you to believe that the world you saw was real. And what’s even better is that they were able to create a self-sustaining body system. This meant that a human no longer needed to eat or perform normal bodily functions, at least not in the way we used to.” Seeing that Dallen was getting overwhelmed, he put the gear on the bed and sat down again.
“I know this is all very confusing, and most of it will never really make sense because we weren’t alive before this technology was implemented worldwide, but the only thing that matters is that you’re free now.” He lightly patted Dallen on the back.
Free from what? Dallen’s scribblings were improving.
“The lies that you’ve been fed since your birth.”
But I was so much happier then. Everything was better.
Mara had a disgusted look on her face. She stepped forward and loomed intimidatingly over Dallen.
“If only you could see how pitiful you are, clinging to lies and a false reality!” Her voice was quick and sharp.
Trygg raised his hand gently.
“Now Mara, don’t you remember what it was like? To have your whole world flipped upside down?” Trygg’s tone was a bit more serious than before and gave off an unquestioned authority.
Dallen realized he had no idea what he looked like. Throughout his life, his fake life, he had gone through hundreds of different fashions and styles. But what did he look like now that all of that was stripped away? He remembered the bald heads and tubes and cords everyone else had worn at the graduation ceremony and shuddered. Even if he did look horrible, he decided he had to know.
I want to see myself. He scribbled slowly and carefully.
Trygg looked at Mara with concern for a moment.
“Son, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Let’s wait a day or two more.”
Dallen frantically underlined his last sentence and pushed the notepad towards Trygg.
Mara didn’t hesitate. She pulled out a small handheld device with a camera embedded in it and turned it so that he could see himself.
Dallen’s stomach dropped. Before him sat the ugliest creature, he had ever seen. It had a very bald head and white, pasty skin. Its eyes were bloodshot and its ears were crumpled and weak. But the worst part was the scars. Giant circular scars littered the top of its head where the tubes and cords had been. Red scars and softened tissue marks ran from its eyes to its ears, and its jaw looked as if it was missing a layer of skin.
This cannot be me.
Large tears welled up in his eyes.
I know this isn’t me.
He began to sob. He held his hands in front of his eyes to cover up the horrible sight. To his dismay, he saw that no part of his body had escaped this abuse. His hands had small holes on each of his knuckles where cords had entered, and indented pieces of skin where some type of metal plating had been.
“Ok, that’s enough,” Trygg said silently, hinting for Mara to put her device away. “Why don’t you get some rest now. Every day you’re going to continue to learn more about yourself and the Truth, and I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.” Trygg and Mara left the room and dimmed the lights, leaving Dallen alone, gripped by dread and a disgusting feeling in his stomach.
Dallen didn’t sleep at all. He couldn’t get the image of that pitiful creature out of his mind. He tossed and turned, desperately hoping to escape the face that he knew belonged to him. As he lay awake he ran over what Trygg and Mara had been telling him. He thought about the friends he had, about the parents he had been assigned to, about the job he was aspiring to. He began to realize that without the fake reality he had lived in, he amounted to nothing, to nobody.
Finally, the sun began to make its way through a window opposite of Dallen’s bed. It wasn’t like the sun he had seen all his life, it was brighter, so bright that looking straight at it hurt. This sun had a certain dominance his sun didn’t have. Mara slammed the door open, startling him out of his contemplation.
“Get up. There’s breakfast on the table.” She turned curtly and slammed the door. Dallen slowly shifted his feet out of bed, his body still feeling new and tender. He slowly and laboriously made his way to the door. When he opened it, he was greeted by an invigorating smell, one that seemed to flow through his shriveled nostrils and go straight into his stomach. Trygg sat at the table scooping some form of yellow food onto a plate.
“Morning! Hope you were able to get some sleep!” Trygg smiled and sat down. Dallen tried to speak but found that he had still not gotten the hang of it. He was embarrassed by the animalistic noise that came out when he tried. Trygg pushed the notepad across the table.
Thanks. To his surprise, his handwriting had become much more understandable since his last attempt.
“No problem kid.” Trygg chuckled. Dallen began to devour the food on his plate, not once thinking about what it was, where it came from, or what he had been eating in the Lie. It tasted odd, yet somewhat similar to foods he had eaten before. But there was something about it, maybe it was the texture, that made it intriguing and foreign. Parts of it were burnt, betraying that Trygg was no chef, yet Dallen did not find it repulsive.
“Today’s going to be a big day, so eat up.”
What are we doing?
“We’re going to show you the Truth. We’re going to show you what’s become of Mother Earth in your absence.” Trygg smiled, excited to show off the old world. Dallen solemnly looked at his now empty plate before writing his thoughts on the notepad.
Is there a way to go back?
Trygg stared at the notebook, stunned, his eyes dimmed with disappointment. Mara became defensive, her eyes fierce and oppressive.
“Go back?! Don’t you understand? It was all a lie!” She slammed her hand onto the table. Seeing that Dallen was startled by her hostility, Trygg put his hand firmly on hers. His eyes met hers, and she understood. She backed off and left the room. Trygg relaxed and leaned forward on the table.
“Son, aren’t you even a little curious about the real world? About the Truth?”
I want to go back. Is there a way? Dallen scribbled before Trygg even finished his sentence.
“Well, it’s not that simple son, you see—,” Dallen let out a small whimper as he vigorously circled his previous sentence, his eyes desperate and angry. Trygg sighed.
“Okay. Okay.” He stroked his beard. “You’re not the only one. There’ve been others you know, others that’ve wanted the Lie more than the Truth.” He rose and stood looking down at Dallen for a moment. “Those who rejected The Truth.”
Dallen looked at him and saw a hint of anger in his eyes. In a moment, it softened into pity.
“I’m sorry, it’s just, we don’t get a lot of visitors. Before we send you back, can I at least show you the sunrise? It’s about halfway through now, but she’s still a beauty.” He smiled again. Dallen nodded and rose. Trygg led him through a door to an empty and dry plain. Besides the house and a small vehicle, there was nothing atop the small plateau. What he saw next took his breath away. The sun. It was magnificent. It’s orangish-yellow beams spread a stunning tint through the morning blue sky. Trygg sat down on the edge of the plateau and let his feet dangle.
“Gorgeous isn’t it. There’s just something about it that lets you know it’s real.” Trygg stretched his arm out as if he was trying to reach the sun and touch it. He let his hand drop and sat there for a moment thoughtfully.
“You know, I never got your name. Not that it matters now that you’re leaving us though.” He looked back at Dallen and then remembered that the notepad was inside the house.
“Oh right, well, how about I just call you Achzib? Or Zib for short?” Trygg asked, squinting through the increasing strength of the sunlight. Dallen just shrugged. He didn’t care what Trygg or Mara thought of him; he was going home after this and didn’t plan on returning. “You see, Achzib is kind of a special name to me.”
He paused and observed an ant carrying a dead, smaller insect to the edge.
“It’s ancient Israeli. Means liar, or the one that runs.”
He never turned to face Dallen after this point; just stared at the sun.
“And, seeing as how you’ve bought into The Lie, you are in turn, trying to lie to yourself.” His voice took a more serious tone. Dallen had never really had to deal with violence or danger in any way, but something about the way this one-sided conversation was going made him increasingly uncomfortable. He turned and started towards the house. Before he reached it, Mara opened the door and shut it firmly behind her. In her hands was a tool that was long in shape and made of metal and wood.
“I reckon it’s a pretty fitting name, don’t you Zib?” Trygg’s voice was soft and contemplative, almost sad.
Mara approached Dallen slowly, holding the item with one hand, it’s tip almost touching the dry dusty dirt. Dallen began to back up towards the edge.
“I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand a liar. There’s just something about them, something that sticks in the back of your brain.” Trygg tapped the side of his head.
Dallen had backed himself completely up to the edge of the cliff now. Mara held the device with two hands, its long cylindric end facing him, condemning him. He had fully realized now that whatever she was holding was meant to do him harm. Tears began to form in his eyes, and he made desperate attempts to talk, still managing only pathetic whimpers and inhuman sounds.
“Those who have chosen The Truth must push all lies out of their lives. Otherwise, they will be dragged back into the pit of their ignorance.” Trygg dropped a pebble off the edge. Dallen broke down and fell to his knees. He shut his eyes.
A mechanical click.
An explosion.
The sensation of falling.
The Lie evaporates.
All that remains is The Truth.
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