Alexander Plansky - Arcadia

And ahead of him, across the area, stood a set of double doors.

Lewis briskly strode toward them and pushed one open. In the next room was an elevator and a double-landing staircase leading upward. Keeping the gun out in front of him, he started up the steps. As he turned to the next landing, he realized there was only one other level. The staircase was lit by bright white fluorescents as the lower level had been, but through the window on the door to the next floor, it looked pitch black.

He pressed his face to the window and looked inside. Stretching away from him were row after row of computer racks, each radiating red luminescence from lights along their sides.

It was the server room.

All of the data in Arcadia was stored here. The FBI would have a field day with this. Lewis suddenly remembered that he still had Gonzalez’s business card in his wallet. He was certainly going to have a call with her about all this. Assuming he made it out alive.

Lewis opened the door and entered. It was chillier in here, but not uncomfortably so. He held his pistol at the ready as he began moving down the row that divided the server room in two. Each half was walled off behind thick glass on both sides of him. Electronics hummed and occasionally beeped as he passed by, the glare of the red LEDs shining in his peripheral.

He became even more tense as he reached the other side and saw a set of glass-paned double doors opening out into an empty white room. He pushed through them, walked through the room, and exited through a single door into the cold desert night air, a full moon shining in the sky.

Lewis found himself near the rear of the compound, at the entrance to the smaller building that he had seen Blackwell and the others taking Jenna toward earlier when she’d had the bag over her head. Directly in front of him, across a small paved road, were the solar panels he had crouched by. Immediately to his right stood the fencing around the construction site and diagonally to the right, across the road from him, was the largest building, the Entertainment Center.

Keeping low, he moved swiftly across the ground toward the safety of the solar panels. He was about halfway across the pavement when he heard a vehicle screech and turned his head to witness a black Chevy Suburban tearing out of Arcadia’s front entrance and speeding south on Old Hwy 93.

They’re taking Jenna back to the hotel , he thought. He had to move quickly.

Lewis forsook taking cover by the solar equipment and instead sprinted toward the back door of the Entertainment Center. He skidded to a halt and whipped out Blackwell’s security badge, sliding it through the card reader beside a keypad. The light flicked from red to green and the heavy door unlocked beside him.

He kept the gun ready in his right hand while he gradually pulled the door open with his left. Lewis half expected one of the guards to jump out right then, but to his relief he managed to slip inside and close the door quietly behind him without interruption.

It actually began to make him worried. This was some kind of government installation. Where the hell was all the security?

Then, from the large main lobby far beyond the long stretch of dark, blue-lit corridor came the sound of voices.

Lewis flattened himself against the wall next to the door for Studio 3, the same space where he’d watched Jenna play Retrowave Rampage less than 24 hours before. It all seemed like an eternity ago. He couldn’t believe it had been less than a week since this all started on the evening of her birthday.

He inched himself slowly along the hallway, the conversation steadily becoming more audible the closer he got. It sounded like two people were having an argument, one angrier and louder than the other.

Finally, he reached the end of the corridor and cautiously peered out into the entrance lobby. In the minimal illumination provided by the blue LEDs overhead, Lewis could make out three figures standing by the arcade machines obscured in enough shadow that he couldn’t see their faces. Two of them appeared to be wearing suits, but the third, standing in the middle, wore a dark vest and khaki pants. He was pretty sure that was Jackson.

One of the two suited men raised his voice even louder. “…can’t hide it from me any longer. I built this place and I demand to know what you people are really using it for. End of story.”

The other man spoke. “Allow me to remind you who paid for your little playground, Mr. Zhao. My organization has funneled millions of dollars into this enterprise, and, as per our agreement, the research we do here is none of your concern. You had said you’d rather not know when we signed off on the deal. So that’s the end of the story.”

Lewis suddenly shrunk back from the corner. His body slid to the floor and his hands began shaking, a vise constricting his chest. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard with his own ears, but it was unmistakable.

The other man’s voice belonged to Lance Bateman.

“The deal was always this,” he continued. “Family First would pay for your dream VR attraction and fund it as it grew, but until our research was completed, it would not be advertised or exposed to press scrutiny. The visitors here all consented to be part of a psychological experiment.”

“I know you’ve been re-jigging the stuff I developed for the CIA. Are you combining it with the Dream Machine prototype, is that it?” Zhao said.

Bateman held up his hands. “We want to run the definitive test of whether or not violence in video games creates violence in real life. That’s all.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

They both spun around. Jackson reached for his gun, but Bateman motioned for him to put it away, a big smile coming across his face.

Lewis walked toward the three of them, his gun aimed at Jenna’s father. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Mr. Bateman. Seems a bit out of character for you.”

He held up his hand and said, “Please, call me Lance.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Lewis said, switching the gun to one hand and pointing the barrel at the man’s head.

Bateman chuckled. “You know Desmond, I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in all this. I truly am. It was never my intention. I mean, there was always the possibility that you were going to end up as collateral once Jenna went haywire, but that’s nothing personal.”

“What the hell is going on?” Zhao said, looking genuinely confused and backing away.

“Hey Victor,” Lewis said bitterly, still glaring at Bateman. “Guess your buddy Lance here didn’t tell you about his little brainwashing project, huh?”

“That’s not exactly how I’d describe it,” Bateman said. “But, I can see how that misconception would arise.”

“This wasn’t for knowledge or experimentation.” The gun wavered slightly in his hand. “It was a carefully orchestrated smear campaign against violent video games, wasn’t it? First, you identified prominent YouTube gaming icons, video game journalists, and e-sports competitors. Then you sent them copies of Rogue Horizon , a derivative sci-fi horror schlock-fest designed to make players’ skin crawl. Its focus wasn’t plot, gameplay, or character development like other games. No, its sole purpose was to disturb you with visceral, gory imagery, maybe with a little bit of subliminal imagery thrown in to spice it up.

“But in your early experiments, before you began sending out the game, that wasn’t enough to make them crazy, was it Lance? You went to all that effort, and all the test subjects came away with were some bad dreams. Turns out even deliberately violent, disturbing games don’t make people commit murder. There, your big question was solved.”