Displaced - Book One of the Alternate Reality Series

Chapter 17

Night had fallen by the time Eric walked out of the UCLA computer lab. As he ambled towards his auto, he tried to recall when last out at this hour. He couldn't. Either way, he resolved to do so more often, the decision spurred along by the tepid black air, along with the stars.

He looked up at them while walking along, the array magnificent, despite their shine struggling through the city's illumination. He then refocused to his front, eyeing his lonesome auto waiting in the parking lot, a small smile working across his face. He was developing a renewed sense of appreciation towards real space. Why is that? Was it from feeling as if he hadn't seen real space in ages?

Virtual world transitions induced time distortion, his latest two-hour jaunt feeling like days had passed since entering and exiting. Perhaps this stemmed from total avatar immersion, which placed distance to the body left behind, making it feel foreign upon return.

Whatever the reason, it strengthened the notion that virtual reality wasn't mild escapism, like watching a movie or reading a book. It was complete and total departure. He smiled once more. No wonder he loved it so much.

He climbed into his auto and asked the vehicle to start for home. As the auto eased towards a campus exit, he checked the holographic time display. 8:43p.m. Would Kim be home? Not likely.

It was Friday night, so she was probably out with friends, or with a friend. Eric smiled once more, then the gesture faded, turning into a curl.

The thought didn't bother him–Kim out and about with someone, fingers interlaced, bodies close on this gorgeous summery night. Indifference existed where remorse normally resided. Why was that?

Maybe he already left this reality behind, if only in his mind, a thought he considered at The Clover but never solidified. Maybe a part of him made this decision without him knowing, the part that loved net space so much. His smile eased back into place.

The auto maneuvered through L.A.'s vibrant west side, passing along throngs of people, and pulses of music and light. The cabin vibrated from the rhythmic reverberations, while pinks, blues and yellows flickered throughout, but Eric barely registered this. His mind stayed wrapped around the mission, and in particular, of Victor's invitation. Was tomorrow night the big show?

He needed to check the Crypt Keeper message boards, because if tomorrow night was the hour of the wolf, Hanging Chad probably whet the Keeper's murderous appetites by hinting at this. Hell. He might've even boasted over plans to have two victims in one sitting.

Then Eric crossed his arms, wondering if he should let the wolf feast at all.

Net space was real, or real enough that decent people should prevent virtual murder when they could, and he could. He could warn Alice, letting her know of Victor's identity and intentions. And if she doubted this, he would show her one of Victor's videos. That would drive the point home like his knife.

Or he could message Hanging Chad, saying his cover was blown.

Either approach would work. The problem, however, was Arvin.

Arvin needed to watch Victor kill Alice, as that would convince him of Chad's inner evil. Eric wanted this evidence as well, and still did, but that was before learning something–net space was real.

The auto merged onto the freeway, the city's flickers dying in the rear view. Eric didn't notice this either, not with his thoughts still preoccupied, this time by contemplations that elicited a wicked grin.