Thrill Switch

5

5

A REPORTER’S FACE filled the briefing room screen. She was Chinese, with three different colored eyes. If this wasn’t her Holosian avatar, the real world was getting too weird for my tastes. Our True-Resolution display made it feel like the reporter was larger than life in the room. Titles below her talking head announced her name as Yu Ying.

‘This morning,’ Ying said. ‘Las Vegas Police discovered a crime scene that bears similar hallmarks to the Specter s*******r, where Holos pioneer Jazlin Switch killed hundreds of people via virtual link seven years ago. A phrase written on the wall of the apartment ties the victim to Christos Rama's real world identity.’

‘Pull a file on this Rama person!’ Gibson barked at Cline, who nodded.

Ying’s report continued. Virtual footage showed Rama dressed in a Christian priest’s cassock, dyed saffron like Buddhist robes. He was giving some kind of sermon. Ying’s voiceover drawled on over the scene.

‘Rama, who has been publicly supporting the new Holosian Crime bill via his evangelist Feed channel, has long been campaigning to bring morality to the virtual world. His catch cry 'it's more about money than power,' calls out those who benefit from keeping the Holos free of government interference, saying they're hiding behind the idea of freedom for monetary gain.’

Rama’s sermon kicked into volume. He was animated behind his pulpit, passion dripping from every syllable.

‘We need real laws to stop the filth of virtual r**e, p********a, murder, and violence running rampant in the Holos,’ Rama preached. ‘We need a transparent currency that allows governments to trace those who benefit from pimping immorality for their gain. That's why I support Senator Sheila Rommel's move for this new policy.’

‘Find out the full details of that policy too, Cline.’ I said. ‘What are people most polarized about?’

Cline typed like his fingers were on fire, swiping documents into files for us to digest later. His wild eyebrows caught sweat dripping down his forehead. The large screen in front of us flicked back to Yu Ying, who seemed to stare right at me with all three eyes.

‘Considering Jazlin Switch was a passionate supporter for absolute freedom in the virtual world, there is concern she might be involved directly with the murder,’ Ying said. ‘Is the Specter Slayer loose? Or has someone else finally been able to replicate her method of killing after all this time? I’ll bring you more news as it comes to hand. This is Yu Ying with a Feed Original Investigation.’

The screen went dark. Gibson slapped the table, making me jump.

‘Detective my ass,’ he said, glaring my way. ‘Cline, find out how those images got leaked to the press. I kept this team small for a reason and I know I’m not the f*****g rat.’

Cline stood and scurried from the room. Gibson wheeled toward me. His thumb face looked like it had been hit with a hammer.

‘Jack-in station, one hour,’ he said. ‘You’re interviewing Jazlin Switch now whether you like it or not. Clearance just came through.’

He left without another word. I sat there staring at the dark screen. It reflected how I felt at my core. Black. My thoughts tumbled into that hole, back to my seventeenth birthday when my dad bought me a trip into the Holos. Fully synced avatars. Top line gear. Harnesses that would allow us to jump, fall, fly. True-Res helmets that projected the Holos as a perfect representation, with olfactory vents that simulated taste and smell too. Virtual reality without the V, as the slogan went.

I’d resisted the lure of the Holos up until then, afraid of the dark side of human nature on display there. My mother had described it as a brain sewer, where all the sludge of our minds mixed together. She refused to go in. As a gym teacher, she demanded all her classes were in a physical space. She even mistrusted virtual classrooms linked only to the National Education Network, saying I should never trust what I couldn’t touch and see with my real body. Anything else was too easily manipulated for someone else’s gain. I should have listened, but I was seventeen. I wanted to experience the worlds. Both of them. Dad was more liberal. He agreed there was some darkness in the Holos but thought it was eclipsed by light—the creative side of what we could imagine. The art. The ideas. The experiences. They were the fantastic creation of the human mind. He said we should be willing to draw inspiration from everywhere. That fantasies were there to be enjoyed, not to be taken too seriously. Now that I was becoming a woman, I had to see and decide for myself.

The day started innocently, soaring through the clouds, wandering ancient civilizations, letting the music of generations flow over me. It was wonderful. Dad showed me everything he loved. The bright side of the Holos, he called it. The true side. He wore an avatar that looked just like his smiling self. He encouraged me to do the same, saying if I wasn’t comfortable with who I was in the real world, I wouldn’t find peace in the virtual one. Still, he let me try on outfits of outrageous designs, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at my choices. He then helped me pick out something that reflected the sweet girl I was at that point. It was right then that a tall, warrior-looking brute walked past and said only true sluts dressed like librarians. I wanted to cry with the shock. Dad simply put his hand on my shoulder and smiled.

‘Don’t worry about what other people think of you,’ he said, ‘Take the world as a joke and you’ll always be smiling. Take the work you do seriously and you’ll always be successful.’

It sounded wise, so I smiled. He was successful after all. Liked. Happy. His skill at refitting vintage cars drew people into his showroom from all over the country. His easy charm had people buying them too, despite the premium pricing. ‘If you can afford the insurance to manually drive it yourself, you can afford the car as well,’ was his favorite line, delivered with a grin.

I shook off the brute’s comment and refocused on the moment. Dad worked such long hours, it was wonderful to have one-on-one time with him.

‘What’s next?’ I asked Dad.

His eyes sparkled with excitement.

‘I hear there’s a new showcase happening from one of the Holos’s brightest minds,’ he said. ‘Something that will knock us flat.’

We went arm-in-arm to the public square where all the biggest events were held. All kinds of people were gathered—beings that defied description. People experimented freely with how they could look now that they weren’t burdened by biology. It was like performance art.

Just after we got there, the stage burst with light. A person walked onto the platform. A woman of impossible grace. She had an assurance that only came with true power. Everyone watched Jazlin Switch. She waved her hands theatrically and screens swept around the space, boxing everyone in. People started looking a little uncomfortable but no one objected.

My mind had wiped exactly what happened next. The details of it. There was a sense of pressure. Of neon glare from all around that penetrated the skin. There was screaming. Bodies spasming. People running. I ran with them, yelling for dad. Only screams responded. Through the chaos, a voice came to me. A face appeared. It was Switch. Her cat-like eyes bored right into me.

‘You’re an innocent one,’ she said. ‘Only the darkest will die this day.’

And all went black.

I knew Switch was a liar as soon as I woke, because my dad didn’t wake up too. He shuddered as I held him, covered in blood that wouldn’t stop coming. It streamed from under his helmet that I couldn’t get off. When two technicians came to help, Dad was still breathing. Still alive, just. They took him away then, said they’d do all they could. But ‘all they could’ wasn’t good enough, just like my pitiful attempts. He died and I hadn’t even been there. For some reason that was the worst of it. That I hadn’t held him until his last breath.

For years, that woman’s face haunted me at night, spoke to me when my mother wouldn’t. That face almost drove me insane before it drove me to study. To understand. To bring order to the chaos of that day. To figure out why she’d killed my father. To see how I could make sure it never happened to anyone else again.

Closure didn’t come, but an accelerated Ph.D. fuelled by my obsession did. There was also police training and escape to Las Vegas, away from my mother’s silence. A new place to take my work seriously but treat the world as a joke. That face. That face. No joke there.

And now, I had to face it. Her. In virtual reality without the V.