busily cooking and frying and baking and… man, my stomach rumbled. I had only been eating gloid for the last few days. The idea of real food sounded pretty good right about now.
A woman chef hurried up to Zetlin with a tray of freshly baked cookies. “Can I tempt you, Z?” she asked.
Zetlin nodded for us to try the cookies. I didn’t want to be rude, so I took one. Who am I kidding? They smelled great. I wanted ten. But I only took one and it was delicious. It was sweet and gooey and tasted like chocolate. Loor ate one too. I could tell by the look on her face that she liked it as much as I did. As if reading my mind, another chef appeared with two glasses that I really hoped had the Veelox version of milk. What is it about milk that tastes so good with chocolate? The liquid was creamy colored, and I’m not sure if it was milk, but it sure tasted great.
“Thank you,” I said to the chefs.
“Yes, thank you,” Loor added.
Zetlin smiled and led us on. As soon as we stepped through the door into the next section, I knew this was our ultimate destination. One whole wall was made of glass, which meant we could look out onto the strange city of black buildings. The opposite wall held a computer console that looked very much like the Alpha Core in the Lifelight pyramid. This place wasn’t about fun and games. This was where Dr. Zetlin worked. This was where we needed to be.
“First things first,” Zetlin said. He walked to the control chair and hit a few buttons on the arm controller. The building rumbled. It felt like an earthquake.
“What is happening?” Loor asked, crouching down and ready for trouble.
“Don’t worry,” Zetlin answered. “I’m returning the Barbican to position number one.”
The walls began to move. I realized that the massive building was turning back onto its side! We heard the grinding sound of metal wheels activating and straining under the massive load. Loor and I both looked around for something to grab on to for balance.
Zetlin laughed, “Please, don’t panic. The floors rotate inside the structure. We’ll remain level.”
Sure enough, as the wall moved, what had been the glass ceiling became the wall. A new glass ceiling appeared which was previously the far wall. Even though we weren’t actually moving, all this rotating made me dizzy. The only way I could keep from falling over was to look out at the city. The city didn’t move. That proved the building was rotating around us while the floor stayed level. Amazing. A few seconds later, the building shuddered and it was over. A quick look around told me that nothing seemed to have changed.
“The building is on its side again?” I asked.
“Yes,” Zetlin answered. “All the floors are perfect cubes. That’s how they can rotate within the frame of the Barbican. The only thing different now is that each floor is side by side with the next. In position one, there is no need to climb between floors. Everything is on one level.”
“Why do you make this building turn like it does?” Loor asked.
“To keep out the uninvited, of course,” Zetlin answered.
That meant us, but I wasn’t going to start apologizing now. I walked over to the glass wall and gazed out at the dreary, black city.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Why do you have that city out there? You could create any world you want. I’m sorry for saying this, but this whole setup is totally strange.”
Zetlin joined me at the window and looked out. “This city is a reminder,” he said softly.
“Of what?” I asked.
“Of life before Lifelight.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Is this where you lived?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Zetlin answered. “I was born and raised in Rubic City. It was a busy, thriving community, but I was never a part of it. I was too-what was the word they used? — I was too special to be part of the life everyone else knew.”
It was strange listening to Zetlin. He looked like a sixteen-year-old kid, but his words were that of a sad old man. It was kind of creepy.
“The directors recognized my genius from the time I was an infant,” he continued. “They predicted my superior intellect could change the future of Veelox.” He looked at me and chuckled. “They were right.”
“Then you did not live an ordinary life?” Loor asked.
“Oh, no!” Zetlin answered quickly. “I lived an extraordinary life. I was surrounded by the greatest scientific minds available. They were my teachers, but soon became my pupils. They marveled at my theories of neural- electric compatibility. It was the theory that broke down the artificial wall between thought and reality. By the time I was eight, we created the first prototype of Lifelight. It was crude, but we were able to generate visual images driven solely by brain function. That was the moment. The breakthrough. From then on, it was simply about growth.”
“But what was your life like?” I asked. “I mean, yeah, you were a genius and all, but it sounds a little… I don’t know… not fun.”
Zetlin didn’t answer. He simply looked out the window. It was slowly coming clear to me. Aja told me what it was like to grow up as a phader. Every minute was spent learning and being trained. There was no time for warmth or friendship. My guess was that Dr. Zetlin’s life had been like that, times about a thousand. This horrible, black city was the image Zetlin had of his life. His real life.
I had been wrong to think Zetlin’s fantasy was about reliving his youth. It was about having the childhood he was denied. This building he called the Barbican was his second chance at being a kid.
“I had a goal,” he finally said. “I worked on Lifelight for sixty years. It consumed me morning and night. But I kept going because I knew it would be my only chance to escape.” He pointed out through the glass. “That city. That dark, rainy cold city is there as a reminder of what life once was, and of why I will never leave the Barbican.”
I felt bad for the guy. His life was a fantasy. He had no memories of real live friends or loved ones. Everything important to him was made up in his head. Worse than that, I was going to have to tell him that it wouldn’t last.
“We need your help. Dr. Zetlin,” I said.
Zetlin pulled himself away from the window. He was suddenly a young boy again, full of energy. He hurried to the control chair and plopped down in it.
“Right,” he said. “You said something about a virus corrupting the processing code. That, I’m afraid, is impossible.”
He hit a few keys on his controller and a stream of data appeared on the large monitor overhead.
“It’s not impossible,” I insisted. “The virus has totally infected Lifelight. It mutates people’s thoughts. Instead of giving them the ideal experience, it finds what they’re afraid of and hurts them. The phaders had to suspend the grid or a lot of people would-“
“They suspended the grid?” Zetlin asked in surprise.
“Yes! All over Veelox, people are in limbo waiting-“
“I know what it means,” Zetlin snapped at me. He hit a few more keys and examined more data. He then stood up and announced, “I see no evidence of anything wrong.”
“That’s because your jump is isolated,” I said. “Look, I’m on shaky ground here. I don’t really know how this works.”
“Then what are you doing here?” he demanded. “What kind of phader are you?”
“We’re not phaders,” I answered nervously. “We’re here to tell you that unless we get the origin code, millions of people across Veelox are going to die.”
Zetlin looked me square in the eye. “You have not convinced me,” he said. “I believe this virus does not exist; therefore I will not give you the origin code. Good-bye.”
Our mission was about to fail miserably. I had no idea of what to say or do to turn it around. But then we heard a familiar voice come from across the room.
“The virus is real,” it said.
We all spun to see Aja. “I know it’s real, because I created it. I’m a phader, and I may be responsible for the deaths of millions of people across Veelox.”
(CONTINUED)
