Michael Robertson - New Reality - Truth

“I’ve had enough, Jake.”

Stopping, Jake turned to his friend. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

When Jake looked at Tom properly —his sunken grey eyes, his ratty beard, his pale skin—a pang of grief gripped his heart. When did he get so old?

“I’ve had enough of this life. Of scavenging like animals.” Looking away, Tom pointed at a fox walking over the ruined landscape. “Hell, even the animals are doing better than us. We’ve been living like this for years now.” Clenching his jaw, he repeated himself. “Years!”

Putting his good hand on Tom’s emaciated shoulder, the sharpness of it made Jake want to withdraw. “But we’ve come so far.”

“Have we? Really? What have we done? We live like tramps, hoping that we’ll find some old scrap of food, of anything.”

Shaking his head, Jake looked around. “It won’t be long before things start growing again. Nature will beat this.”

“You’ve been saying that since Rixon destroyed our city. Every day we look for signs of life, but there isn’t any. This place is sterile. The only way to survive is to put a headset on.” Freeing his ponytail, Tom battled the wind to retie it again.

Just watching his friend’s wincing movement stimulated the ache in Jake’s arthritic joints. “They want you to think New Reality’s the only option, but life cycles, things have to change, you can’t stop nature.” Staring into the distance, Jake’s eyes lost focus. “It will always win out.”

“We all have our own reality, right?”

Ignoring the question, Jake raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you just need a rest.”

“I need more than a rest.”

Jake didn’t reply.

“The only reality we have in this world is our own, right? The life I perceive and live is my truth.”

A particularly nasty twinge ran through Jake’s hand as he nodded.

“We see the world through our own eyes. Experience it through our own senses.”

“What about the shared reality we experience from interacting with one another?” Jake asked.

“We still experience that through our own receptors and our own viewpoint, regardless of whether it’s shared or not. It’s only real because I perceive it as real. Everything is subjective. If I plug into the game and experience a new reality, then why can’t I choose to accept that as my truth?”

Looking away, Jake caught a glimpse of the first gamer he’d seen in days. Dragging Tom over to him, Jake kicked the man as hard as he could. It felt like kicking a crash mat, and it aggravated the sharp pain in his right shin. “Look at it, Tom,” he said, purposefully omitting a gender. “You want to be like that? Inanimate? Stupid? Is that the existence you want? Is that the reality you’d choose?” The sharp tang of shit hit Jake as he waited for his friend to reply.

“Look at us; we’re walking skeletons that look like we’ll snap at any moment. At least he’s well fed.”

“He’s a slug.”

“In our reality he is, but not in his. He’s probably relaxing on a beach while a beautiful woman oils him down. He probably looks like a movie star in his world. Isn’t that all that matters?”

Another burning wave gripped Jake’s palm. Pulling air through his gritted teeth, he shook his head. “But it’s not real.”

“What is, Jake? Look around. We live like cockroaches in a world where Rixon is God. We have no food. No shelter. No women. If this is living, I’d rather play New Reality, I’d rather create my own destiny.”

“But New Reality can’t give us the social interactions that are so important to us as people. Don’t you believe in an interconnected collective consciousness?”

Tom sighed, his face hanging to reveal thick bands of white beneath his irises. “I’m a scientist, Jake, I don’t believe in the same things as you.”

“But how do you know it works? How do you know the headset will respond to your desires?” Lifting his scarf, Jake spat grit from his mouth. “What if it responds to your nightmares? What if you feel trapped and can’t escape? You can’t take the headset off again because you won’t know you have it on.” Imploring his friend with raised palms, the action throwing another sharp sting through his wounded hand, Jake lifted his eyebrows. “So how can you know, Tom? How?”

“How do you know everything will work out fine if I stay here?”

“Faith.”

“In what? Rixon?”

“No, faith that I can carry on until things change.”

“What about your teeth?”

“What about them?”

“The toothache that’s growing at the back of your mouth.”

Running his tongue over his back teeth, Jake flinched at the jagged pain. “They’ll be okay.”

“Have you ever had toothache? It’s like your brain’s melting. What will you do with no painkillers? That’s if you don’t die of thirst before that.” Tom glanced behind them.

“I get it now.”

“What?”

“It’s about them, isn’t it? The things following us. Everything’s about them.”

Looking from side to side, Tom shook his head. “No.”

“Really?”

“Okay, it is a little bit about them.” Pointing at his chest and leaning forwards, Tom opened his eyes wide. “I’ve seen them, Jake. I know what’s following us.”

“And you still won’t tell me. Do you realize just how tedious it’s getting?”

“I don’t want to remember what they look like.”

Dropping his head, Jake peered at his friend through his black fringe. “What about Rory? Who will save him?”

A twitch pulled Tom’s face, and his words lacked the assertion of those before them. “Maybe he’s better off. Look around, why would I want to bring him back into this world?”

“Because it’s real. Also, you want to make sure that he’s okay, don’t you?” It was an underhanded tactic, but Jake was desperate.

Turning his back on Jake, Tom stared at the tower in the distance. After a few seconds, he spun around again with his index finger raised. “One week. Seven days is all I’m going to give it. If we haven’t found Rory by then, I’m giving up.”

Shoving his bandaged hand in Tom’s direction, Jake beamed a smile at him. “Deal.”

Staring at the bloody mess, Tom sneered like he’d rather shake a landmine.

Watching the interaction, she ground her jaw. Why didn’t Jake let him go? It would make everything less complicated. Her patience wouldn’t last another week. Something had to change to speed up the process. If it didn’t, she was going to have to intervene.

Seeing something on the floor, Jake stopped still. “Tom!”

When he looked up to see Tom was still walking, Jake tried again. “Tom!”

The tall man continued trudging away.

“Tom!”

Spinning around, Tom threw his hands up in the air. “What?”

Pointing at the floor, Jake said, “Look.”

Hearing Tom’s sigh over the howling winds, Jake chose to ignore it as his friend walked back over to him. “What is it?”

Pointing again, he watched Tom’s eyes follow his direction. When Tom looked back up, his expression was stony. “A chimney. So what?”

“But what does a chimney mean?”

“It means that at some point, probably a long time ago, it allowed someone to have a fire indoors.”

“Exactly! Do you think there’s a house beneath us?”

“There’s probably many houses beneath us. Why would I care?”

An involuntary groan escaped Jake as another rush of pain ran through his hand. When it had subsided, he took several calming breaths. “The house it’s attached to might still be intact. It’d be nice to see something else has hung on during this clusterfuck, don’t you think? Something other than us.”