Sixteen. Isolated. Naive. Proto craves freedom from his overbearing parents and AI-controlled life. But when extremists destroy his city's protective storm dome, throwing him into the flooded wasteland, he finds his freedom falls short of expectations. Too many cannibals, for one thing. The Wi-Fi is terrible. Plus, chatting with strangers is terrifying.
Sufi, a streetwise scavenger, becomes Proto's unlikely lifeline in this brutal new world. Together, they must overcome their differences and utilize Proto's tech-implanted mind to save a dying city and bridge the chasm between their warring societies.
But dark secrets lurk beneath the surface. Secrets that challenge Proto’s worldview and force him to confront horrifying truths about his people and upbringing.
Proto and Sufi grow closer than either would imagine as they fight an extremist movement. But to achieve a just and equitable society, Proto must overcome an even more herculean effort—making new friends.
14+ due to violence and adult situations
Excerpt:
Transitioning from reality to SIM is just like falling asleep. I know it’s coming, I know what to expect, but I don’t know precisely when it’ll come, or that the jump even happened. One moment, I’m in my bright and shiny room, the next I’m in darkness. The humid air is thick and rich with an earthy, herbal smell, and a chorus of chittering bugs competes with aMiCA’s nagging complaints.
STEM tells me it’s noon in this world, but the darkness disagrees. The thick canopy closes over our heads like intertwined fingers, the blanket of vegetation clutching my arms and legs as if to hold me back.
And almost immediately I’m taken by something in the distance. At first, I think it’s Tan acclimating to his surroundings in his SIM suit.
But this is something else. A blemish in virtual reality. It splits the very fabric of the SIM, a sliver of white against a tree. And like a sleepy, spying eye, the tear blinks shut, leaving in its place the perfect details of a virtual tree.
Did you see that? I transmit.
See what? Tan asks.
Something malfunctioned.
I approach the tree and touch its bark. It feels just as I imagined a tree would—hard, solid. Not glitchy.
Maybe SIM is as tired and beat up as we are, Tan jokes. It deserves to be imperfect every now and then.
Right. It must be my eyes, I say. Because I know my heart will fail before this technology does.
Tan walks beside me, whistling and knocking his knuckle on the tree. My STEM identifies the species as a Sequoiadendron, or giant redwood, which grows close to its relatives, forming a nearly impassable wall.
“Can you believe these things existed?” he asks.
I’m not sure whether he’s talking about trees in general, or this specific breed. But it doesn’t change my answer. “No.”
Tan unsheathes his plasma blade while I keep mine in its holster. I might be a head taller than Tan, but he’s the muscle. Which works out because I can’t stand the sight of blood, and he gets cranky at the idea of critical thinking.
“Thanks again for coming out on short notice,” I say.
“You know I got your back. Plus, who doesn’t want to see some dinosaurs?”
“Umm.” I raise my hand.
Tan laughs and flips the trigger of the plasma saber. The knife’s edge erupts in an orange glow that’s too powerful for my eyes, like a beacon that tells everything in the jungle where we are.
“I’m sure our glowing death rods will scare them off,” he says.
“Actually, the light might attract them. Like how pre-modern birds were attracted to shiny objects. Also, before you go running off, you should know the predators are attracted to fast-moving prey.”
He considers his glowing sword then scans the surrounding darkness. If there are predators nearby, they are well-hidden.
“Well, it’s a nice evening for a walk,” he says, extinguishing his blade to my immense relief.
The danger is non-existent because nothing in this jungle can hurt me. But it doesn’t feel that way. All it takes is a brisk five-minute walk before the lines between virtual and reality begin to blur, and for my mind to convince itself that I’m really in a jungle.
“So, on the topic of unusual treatment and cruel punishment, guess what I’m expected to do?” Tan asks.
“Oh gods, have you been assigned to a sub? Are you leaving the city? Will you be stationed underwater for months with limited access to comms and—”
“Worse. I’m meeting cadets from the other regiments.”
“For military drills?”
“No, for just hanging out,” he says. “My dad just told me after our SIM. He said it was ‘urgent’.”
“Um, weird. I mean, I know the Shotreyus population is in decline, but your dad is, like, desperate for you to meet girls.”
“Don’t even joke. I have no clue what I’m going to do.”
“What do you mean?” But then my super-computer STEM puts the pieces together, and I nearly spit out my metaphoric coffee. “Wait, are you scared of meeting new people?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say scared…”
“You were on the verge of running headfirst into dinosaurs!”
Which, aMiCA reminds us, are within the vicinity in growing numbers.
I admit, this makes the hair stand on the back of my neck. It’s not like I’m afraid of dinosaurs, but the thought of being isolated alone with my thoughts—and, worse, my AI companion—just might be a fate crueler than death.
“You’ve actually seen people in real-life,” I say. “You talk to actual humans every day. You can’t be afraid of talking to other ones, right?”
“I don’t know.”
Tan, who should be paying attention to his surroundings, gets lost in some knife play, letting the plasma saber dance between his dexterous fingers. “Put yourself in my shoes. How’d you feel?”
“Like I won a lottery.”
Tan shakes his head, the yellow lights of his visor echoing against the darkness. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. You don’t know what it’s like. No offense.”
“Um, ouch.” An uncomfortable silence falls between us. I should appreciate the opportunity to listen for predators. But the quiet conveniently reminds me of the first year Tan and I hung out. He was five, I was four and for months I was too scared to say a word to him. That was despite me dreaming every night of the day I’d play with an actual human who was my age.
“Sorry,” Tan grumbles, stepping into a clearing where the trees have been snapped at their base.
“Don’t be. You’re right. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”
“You’re super smart, at least. You’d know the right thing to say to strangers.”
I can’t help but wince as my STEM analyzes our surroundings, giving definition to the blanket of crisscrossing tree trunks and fallen foliage. This was no random act of destruction. It’s a very large nest of a very large predator.
“I freak out when I meet new people and end up talking about myself nonstop,” he says. “People think I'm conceited. But I can’t help it, it’s like the part of my brain where all the interesting stuff lives just shuts off.”
Tan eyes a patch of downed trees for a beat too long—and that’s when I see it. The ground gently pulsing.
The plasma saber is in his hands again, not yet ignited.
I don’t think you’re full of yourself, I transmit into his heads-up display, because the time for radio silence is well behind us.
