Alexander Plansky - Arcadia

Lewis spread his hands, tired. “Fire away.”

She slid a notebook out of the file, opened it to a new page and retrieved a pen from her inside jacket pocket. Without looking up, she said, “Do you know if Charlie Wong was on antidepressants?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think so. Were any found at the house?”

She shook her head. “None so far. Did he have any known mental health issues or emotional difficulties that you were aware of?”

“No,” Lewis said. He’d only known him a few months, but everything Jenna had said about Charlie described the antithesis of the man who had just tried to kill him. “If you don’t mind me asking, why is the FBI interested in this case?” He was pretty sure he already knew.

She paused for a moment and looked at him. “Over the past six months, there have been several instances across the country of people with no prior mental illness issues, who weren’t on any medications with severe side effects, who inexplicably committed murder-suicides. The only common thread was that they were all known for playing violent video games, just like your friend Charlie. My bosses want to find out why.”

For the first time all day, Lewis felt relieved. “I read the Atlantic article.”

She scoffed. “That barely scratched the surface. I’ve seen the detailed police reports, the files on all the investigations. We’re noticing some patterns. I was in L.A. this week for some other business, so the timing of this case is great.”

“What kind of patterns?” he asked.

“I just need answers to a few questions, and I’ll let you know if any spring up,” she said, forcing a smile at the end. She seemed like someone who only resorted to politeness as a necessity.

Lewis said nothing. Everything he’d said to the authorities up to this point had been strictly about the events of the day. He hadn’t mentioned Rogue Horizon or Miller or Arcadia to anyone at the station. But if the feds were looking into this across the nation, then maybe they would believe him.

“Had you noticed a change in Mr. Wong’s behavior recently?” Gonzalez asked.

He thought for a moment. “Yeah, actually. A couple of nights ago he was at my girlfriend’s birthday party. He looked exhausted, but said he’d just gotten back from a busy weekend in… Vegas,” he said, just now remembering. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the connection before. “His eyes were bloodshot and he just looked drained, like he’d been flying halfway around the world.”

“But Las Vegas is barely a two-hour flight.”

“Exactly. I don’t know what he got up to in Vegas” – although I have a pretty good idea where he went – “but something about him just seemed off. He talked a lot about this game he’d been playing. It was a kind of secret beta, he probably wasn’t even supposed to talk about it. He said it was both disturbing and oddly compelling.”

“Did the game have a name?” Gonzalez rapidly jotted down notes.

“ Rogue Horizon .”

“ Rogue Horizon? ”

“Yeah, it was some sci-fi VR horror game.”

“Would that be played on a PC?”

“Yes.”

She scribbled something out of view, then looked up. “And that was the only thing out of the ordinary?”

Lewis thought it was an interesting coincidence that one of the lead investigators in a nationwide FBI case just happened to be in L.A. when the latest gamer snapped and went homicidal.

“Yeah,” he said, thoughts flooding his mind. He recalled his conversation with Ricky, the same evening all of this had started. The Polybius urban legend, clandestine test projects like MKULTRA. Few organizations would have the gall – or the funding – to pull off something like this save for the three-letter government agencies.

“We looked through the games on his computer and his consoles. There was nothing with that name. Maybe he deleted it.”

“Has that name come up before in your investigation?” he asked.

“No,” she said, writing something in her notes. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not relevant. Maybe some people can buy the explanation that video games drove these people to commit murder, but violent interactive media has existed for decades.”

“You think something else is going on.” It was a statement, not a question.

She looked up from her notes. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. Is there anything else you can tell me about Rogue Horizon ?”

Lewis bit the inside of his lip. He wanted to tell her everything – the dreams, Arcadia, Miller’s message – but he just couldn’t trust her yet. A compromise wormed its way into his mind. “I’m afraid that’s all I know right now, but I have a bunch of friends who are fairly big in the gaming world, including my girlfriend. She might know some other people who played it. Is there any way I can contact you if I hear anything else?”

Gonzalez fished a business card out of her jacket pocket and tossed it across the table to him, then stood up and put her notebook back in the file. “Call me if you learn more about the game. Even seemingly tiny details could be important.”

As Lewis walked into the main lobby of the Pasadena Police Department, a cop approached him and pointed to the front entrance. “Your girlfriend’s here waiting for you Mr. Lewis, she just stepped outside to take a call.”

“Thank you,” he said, heading for the exit.

The sun was getting low in the sky as he walked down the front steps, a late afternoon breeze gusting through the air. He had a great view of the magnificent architecture of Pasadena City Hall, just a block south down Garfield Avenue. Jenna stood in front of her parked Tesla Model 3, still talking on her phone.

She spotted him and said, “Oh, he’s here now. Gotta go.” Then she hung up, ran over to him, kissed him, and gave him a bear hug.

He took a deep breath and embraced her tightly. “It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll fucking bet.” She leaned back and looked at him. “Come back to my place tonight. We’ll have a nice, relaxing evening. I’m going to make penne alfredo, absolutely no meat or red sauce.”

“That’s probably for the best.” Neither of them were vegetarians, but he could live without meat for a couple of days after what happened. As they walked toward her vehicle, he said, “Who were you calling?”

“Claudia,” she said, after what seemed to Lewis like a moment’s hesitation. “I was just letting her know what had happened. She said she’s talked to Charlie’s parents.”

“How are they taking it?”

“They’re devastated. They were both at work when it happened. Had they both been at home, I wondered if he would’ve killed them too.”

“Jesus,” he said as he climbed into the car. He thought about that college student in Maine who’d stabbed his mother and sister.

“I just can’t believe what happened,” Jenna said, putting the car into reverse.

Lewis looked out the window up at the sky. “Me neither,” he said. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Sitting in the kitchen, Lewis gazed out the window at the cityscape. He checked his watch: just after 7:30. Jenna probably wouldn’t be back for another ten minutes or so. She’d realized she was out of ingredients for penne alfredo and was determined to make that dish tonight, even when Lewis said he’d be okay with just ordering pizza. But when Jenna had her mind made up, nothing could stop her. He did admire that when she made a plan, she stuck with it.

Part of him felt a pull toward her office and the game that awaited, but he was able to override the urge with a better idea. Standing up, he went to one of her cupboards and withdrew a glass and a bottle of Glenfiddich. Then he poured himself a three-finger scotch, placed the bottle back where it belonged, and returned to his seat.