Rabbits(60)

“Of course,” I continued, “speaking about the game in general terms is widely accepted—necessary, even—to attract new blood, but talking about specifics is out of bounds. Today, however, we’re going to shake things up a little.”

They were all paying attention now—even Journey T-shirt.

“The very nature of the game is secrecy, and the complex series of rules uncertain, but you can discover a great deal if you know where to look. An unexplained hacking challenge appears on a website that previously didn’t exist; a weird series of unnerving videos begins popping up on YouTube; the events of a short fictional horror story on Reddit are starting to come true in real life. Some or all of these things might be related to the game. How do we know? We don’t. We can only draw connections and hope we’re finding a way in.”

I pulled out my phone and a small portable projector box I’d purchased online for fifteen bucks. I was on my way toward the back of the room to switch off the lights when the room went dark. Chloe had been here for my presentations many times in the past, but I had no idea she’d been paying attention. So far, she’d hit every one of Baron’s cues flawlessly. I wondered how she was feeling. Had she been looking around the room for Baron’s stupid grin every ten minutes or so like me?

I dug through the images in my phone’s photo library and eventually found what I was looking for. Then I slipped my phone into the projector box, adjusted a small black slider, and two images of a painting appeared in sharp focus, side by side, on the back wall of the arcade.

“This is a well-known painting called Christina’s World by Andrew Wyeth,” I said. “I’ve seen the original hanging in the Museum of Modern Art in New York. It’s beautiful—one of my favorite works of art on Earth.”

There were mumbles of recognition.

“If you look carefully at these images, however, you’ll notice a slight discrepancy,” I continued. “The image on the left features two windows in the farmhouse in the top-right corner, and the image on the right features three.”

More murmurs from the group.

Half were most likely surprised and excited at the prospect of some unknown mystery I was about to unfurl, and the rest were probably murmuring in recognition because they’d heard rumors that some kind of puzzle or quest involving Christina’s World had been part of the ninth iteration of the game.

“The farmhouse in what we consider the authentic, original version of Christina’s World features two dormer windows, just like the photograph on the left. The version in the photograph on the right, with three windows, is incorrect, so it has to be a fake. There is one significant problem with that theory, however…”

I let that hang there dramatically for a moment.

“You see, the photograph on the right—the impossible photograph featuring three dormer windows in the farmhouse—was taken at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, sometime near the end of the ninth iteration of the game.”

There was genuine excitement, even among the regulars. This was more concrete detail regarding actual gameplay than I’d ever given in the past.

“That’s impossible,” said Orange Goatee. “It has to be photoshopped.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But what if it wasn’t?”

This felt like a moment when Baron might normally yell something out to add to the drama, but Chloe was silent.

I took a deep breath and continued. “What if a top secret organization had existed for millennia? And what if that organization had more resources than the Vatican and the U.S. government combined?” I didn’t give anybody a chance to interrupt and answer my rhetorical question; I was on a roll. “And what if that organization was powerful enough to not only rent out the Museum of Modern Art, but also hire actors to fill the space for an entire day, create a fake version of Christina’s World, and hang it in place of the original?”

“Sounds like something a wealthy and extremely resourceful person named James Moriarty might be able to pull off,” Sally Berkman said.

“Exactly,” I replied. Sally was, of course, referring to the “Moriarty Factor,” a term Rabbits players used to describe some of the more elaborate and expensive scenes and situations attributed to whatever organization was behind the game. Secretly renting out MoMA and hiring a flood of actors to fill it up was just one of many rumored examples.

“This is all wonderful, but how do we know you’ve actually played the game?” Journey T-shirt asked.

“It sounds like you may have missed the ‘you don’t talk about Rabbits’ part of the presentation,” I said.

A few people laughed.

“If you really did play the game, prove it.” Journey T-Shirt really wasn’t going to stop.

There were a few murmurs from the group.

I started to speak, but a sudden sharp stab of static and pain took my breath away. My ears began ringing and my eyes began to blur. A warm tingly panic crawled up my body, and the room began to sway. I reached down and grabbed ahold of the desk to steady myself as I tried to calm my breathing. The tunnel vision would be next, and if that happened, there was no way I’d be able to continue.

I was really starting to hate this asshole and his Journey T-shirt.

“Is it true you have a copy of the PCM?” Chloe yelled out from somewhere in the back of the room.