Alyssa

16

The New World
The sun rose and everything fell.
Not literally. It was around 7am when the sun rose and when Alex had crashed into his wall in the next room over, everything on my bookshelf had fallen off. Hard-core rap screamed from his room. Honestly, if anyone other than beat-up drunks lived in our apartment building, we’d be kicked out. And then we’d be living in with Alex’s parents which would ruin our vibe.
Plus, Alex’s parents were super religious, which would completely basically destroy our reputation. I mean, Alex was really religious too. But he was screaming along to the music, which included a stream of curse words and if his mother heard him she’d, like, ship him off to live with one of his thirty aunts or uncles. And then where would I be? I’d have to get a Real Job. Something stable. Get a wife. Have some kids. Die. Come back in a second life, if that exists. Knowing my luck, I’d come back as an ant. Live a day. Have a kid the same day. Die the same day.
Alex crashed into the wall again. Then I heard his feet stomping as he soared out of his room and threw open my door. “We’re gonna be rich, bro. Run for president. Co-presidents. So rich. Chicks will love us.” He pushed his goggles up onto his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and a bit unfocused.
“Jesus Christ, Alex,” I muttered. His green eyes glared at me. Like he was God or something. My future flashed before his eyes. I’d live a long life only to burn in capital-H Hell. I won’t even get a chance to make a comeback as an ant. Because I said Jesus Christ that one time.
“Don’t say that, man,” was all he said. He was breathing loud and harsh, hands on his knees. “I did it, bro. Bro, it works. Gosh, we’re gonna be so rich.”
What Alex did was create a virtual reality video game. One you could live in. Rot out your days in a video game rather than real life. The dream. You see, one day Alex and I were flipping around on the internet when we came across this ad: Design a virtual utopia and win a million dollars. Alex had nearly peed his pants and looked at me with his “Bro-let’s-do-this” face and I gave him my “Bro-we-can’t-even-pay-our-rent” face. And Alex had given me his “But-my-parents-are-super-rich” face. I gave him my “Oh-yeah-we-live-like-crap-simply-for-rebellious-independent-reasons” face and the rest is history.
I sighed, shut my laptop, and got up from my bed.
“Were you looking at porn, dude?” Alex asked me as I passed him on my way out the door. He gave me a goofy grin and waggled his eyebrows. Alex always assumed I was looking at porn. As though computers and the Internet were invented just for porn and whenever a man sat alone in his bedroom on his laptop, he was definitely looking at porn. Or maybe Alex was just one of those people who was obsessed with porn, yet they probably didn’t even know what porn was, but they were giddy and eager to find out.
Alex tossed me the second pair of goggles and pushed his googles over his eyes. “Get ready, bro,” he said, pushing a big, red button next to the monitor.
A bright, blue light spread across my vision. I could feel Alex vibrating with excitement next to me. A landscape appeared around me. At first, it was an empty room, which eventually formed into a castle. A shady forest was to my right.
Alex was to my left, now decked out in chainmail and a large sword. He raised his eyebrows at me. “Knights of the round table, right, man?” He sounded like I was supposed to be impressed. Alex was really obsessed with fantasy stuff. Books. Movies. TV Shows. I was not surprise his idea of a utopia was living in ancient times before toothpaste and electricity were invented.
“Change the setting,” I told him in a monotone voice. He sighed and obeyed.
We were now on top of a roof in a city. Realistic-looking cars blared their horns at one another. It smelt like piss. I looked down and noticed I was wearing a pair of nice Oxfords, slacks, and a tux. Virtual reality was the dream. Alex was wearing an outfit similar to mine with his hair slicked back. We looked like mega-rich bosses of a corporation.
He looked at me eagerly, waiting for my approval. “Kings of capitalism, eh?” he said. Sweat stains appeared on his white tux around his armpits. A minor flaw. Virtual reality was supposed to erase all unwanted aspects of you. Including gross bodily functions like farting and sweating. He looked down and lifted his armpit. “I can’t change that. It’s kind of important. Sweat out all the bad stuff, bro.” I rolled my eyes.
“Goddam, Alex. We did it. We’re like gods or something,” I said, rocking back onto my heels.
“Okay, first of all: God. Singular. And watch your language, especially—” I held up a hand to stop him. I placed my index finger against my lips. “What?” he asked, irritated that I’d interrupting his moral-correctness-speech thing.
“Do you hear that?”
“The cars—I know.”
“Not that.”
“Well, bro, I don’t really hear anything else. Should I reboot?”
“I don’t hear any birds,” I whispered.
Alex stared at me. Speechless.
“There should be birds. It’s a city. Pigeons,” I told him. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a minor flaw,” I mumbled, running a hand through my hair.
I heard him mumble something that sounded like ‘There are birds in cities?’
“Stop picking out the minor stuff, man. Plus this is a utopia,” he said, making a vague hand gesture. “No one wants nasty pigeons in a utopia, pecking your eyes out,” he concluded. He was probably right, but I didn’t know how often pigeons mauled people.
“Then why does it smell like piss?” I insisted, turning to face him.
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. He stroked his goatee. Apparently in his utopia, a goatee was attractive. “It is sick though, right?” he inquired thoughtfully.
I looked at him. He seemed at home. Alex was the capital-g God of our utopia. He’d created most of it. Created a virtual reality that would rot kids’ brains out. I mean, it would be fun for a while. The escape. But we didn’t create the game to escape reality. We created it so we could escape our reality. Collect a million dollars, move ahead a few spaces. Roll the dice. End up somewhere in Beverly Hills. Get a contract for a reality show. Live a few years. Marry a few women. Die. Rot in Hell. The dream.
And, man, we were awful people. Awful despicable people, placed on this Earth to sink into man’s greatest desires. To be honest, I wanted to punch myself in the face. Or shake my shoulders till my brain fell out. But if I was being really honest, my brain had probably fallen out a long time ago.
Alex turned his head and looked at me, a devilish grin plastered across his face. Dark, purple circles had formed under his eyes. Pimples covered his face like craters on the moon. I knew he was thinking the same thing.
“A friggin’ utopia. We created a world, bro,” he said.
I nodded. A friggin’ utopia. I moved to the edge of the building and stopped when the tips of my Oxfords hung over the edge of the building.
“Bro bro, man, bro, bro man—” Alex stammered behind me. “Bro, careful.”
I shoved my hands into my pants’ pockets. “Can you die in…what are we calling it?”
“Uh…The New World.”
“Can you die in the New World?”
“Oh, man. C’mon. I’m sorry. We don’t, bro, we don’t need to do this. If it’s triggering…makes you uncomfortable. I’ll shut down the game or something, bro.”
“Shut up, Alex. I need to know. Can you die in this utopia?”
He shrugged. I sighed, exasperated, and looked up at the sky. The clouds looked fake. Minor flaw, I reminded myself. How hard was it to create realistic-looking clouds?
Then I jumped.
Alex shouted nonsensically behind me.
Then I blacked out.
I woke up back in Alex’s room. His eyes were wide and a few inches from my face. I lifted my head quickly, and my forehead smacked against Alex’s. Alex howled.
“Oh my God-Gosh, I thought you were dead. Gone.” Then he laughed to himself. “Guess you are immortal in,” he paused for dramatic effect, “the New World.”
“I don’t know. Seeing as I did nearly die.” Alex rolled his eyes. Minor flaw. If we turned in the game and it was mass produced, we would be sued. ‘Kid goes into a coma after dying in a virtual reality video game,’ the headlines would read. ‘Parents sue two douchebags, living large in Beverly Hills’ the caption would read.
Alex must’ve read my mind. “The big-company dudes are, like, responsible for our game. Since they, you know, will be producing it.” I shook my head. But I didn’t tell Alex he was probably wrong. “We’ll collect our money, move to some foreign country. Stay in hiding. Of course, we’ll meet some super-hot babes,” he suggested. Optimistic. “Plus,” he added, “you didn’t die-die. Technically, they can’t sue us if you don’t die.” Wrong, but optimistic, but still very, very wrong.
“How can we stay in hiding when we have a million dollars?” I asked. Alex waved a dismissive hand. Minor flaw.
“Now, c’mon,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. He shouldered two backpacks, which I assumed contained all the pieces to the game. He must’ve packed when I was unconscious.
“Just out of curiosity, how long was I out?” I asked.
“Uh…what day is it?” He checked his phone. “A week,” he said, almost not even caring. He began moving towards the door.
“What the hell, Alex? Are you friggin’ insane?” I almost screamed at him. “Why didn’t you admit me to a hospital? I probably have, like, permanent brain damage.”
Alex gave me a sad smile. “First of all: stop saying Hell like that or that’s where you’ll end up.” I almost rolled my eyes, then decided against it, since I’d probably die if I did. “Second of all: I am very knowledgeable on sleeping for a long time. I once slept for twenty-three hours. Straight.”
I nearly banged my head against the wall. “I was unconscious for a week.”
“Nah, your heart was still beating,” he said. “I’m not that stupid. I knew you were alive.”
I gave up. Both tired of Alex and tired of actually trying. He left the room. I figured there was a possibility I might die on the way there. But when we collected the million dollars, I planned for us to head to the hospital or something. Or I would die. Maybe come back as someone who was actually born rich.
I followed Alex out of the room. He turned back and grinned at me. Kings. Gods. God. Whatever we were. Alex stared at the door handle and slowly turned the knob.