The Removed(51)

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jackson said. He had the projector’s lid open and was leaned way over, trying to rewire or repair whatever was wrong with it. “Give me a minute,” he said. “Is it still the same image?”

“What the fuck is going on?” I said.

“Trying to get the Jim Thorpe image to appear. This was a model, a stock image. Shouldn’t be there. Please ignore.”

I watched him bite his lip, concentrating. The image of the unblinking Native man kept flickering in front of me, eyes wide open. Finally Jackson clicked it off, and the image disappeared.

“Thing’s gone apeshit,” Jackson said, wobbling as he climbed down the ladder. He slumped down in the chair. “Voice activation is damn hard. There are speech patterns. Fuggin’ glitch.”

“This isn’t for the sports game,” I said. “It wasn’t Jim Thorpe. What’s going on?”

“Shit.”

“Tell me the truth, Jackson.”

He stared into the floor, drunk.

“Seems like this is a different game about Indians,” I said. “Is this what you were filming me for?”

Jackson didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t look at me.

“What’s going on?” I said.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why not?”

“It’s nothing, just a harmless game. I don’t even want to talk about it. Let’s head back upstairs, I need to get to bed.”

Jackson stumbled a little and steadied himself as he trudged slowly up the stairs, not seeming to care that I wasn’t following him. I stood for a moment, reeling from what I had just seen. Then, not really knowing what I was looking for, I started going through Jackson’s belongings to see what I could find. I opened the cabinets. There were papers, receipts, notes with scribblings. I shuffled through them. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Next to the ladder I found a game manual:


SAVAGE

—Ready for Beta-Test IMMEDIATELY!—

PLAYER GOALS: Determine whether the savage Indians are real or holograms by interaction. Capture and torture. Shoot to kill.

SPECIFICS: Single-or multiplayer. First-person shooter. Ages 10 and up. Players may purchase game weapons from local dealers in DL (DT’s Gun Supply; Conway’s House of Guns and Ammo; Gunz R Us; etc.). Please register code tracking # for game.

LOCATION: Darkening Land city limits is approximately 1,970 feet (600 m) below sea level (located at 35.20388S, 97.17735E)

GAME OBJECTIVE: Players take on the role of police officers, special agents, soldiers, or assassins who are fighting a local threat of a savage (SAV) invasion. Weapons can be mounted on steady surfaces for shooting, but fewer points are collected. Players shoot Savages.

RED HELMET BONUS: Players earn red helmets for information gained from SAV, so in order to reach the Reward Tier, player must earn ten (10) red helmets. Red helmets can be traded in for experience points.

TORTURE BONUS: Players can place SAV in the Torturous Radioactive Mud Pit (TRMP), located approximately 69 km south of Devil’s Bridge, where they can question SAV and gain information and points before destroying SAV by slow radioactive torture in the mud pit. The radioactive mud creates a slow memory loss (based on historical records of deaths near Devil’s Bridge); therefore, the more torture a player uses, the less information is gained. TRMP is the worst of possible tortures for SAV and is used as a strategic gameplay for long-term players because it earns them red helmets.

REWARD TIER: Experience points are saved in system to encourage long-term gameplay and can be redeemed for a Missile Launcher Fighter (MLF) or Petroleum Fuel Freeway Fighter (PFFF) in case of rare SAV escapes from TRMP. Note: PFFF redeemers be aware that PFFF/MLF trades are not accepted because MLFs are in much higher demand and take more experience points to redeem. *Once a player collects three (3) different MLFs, player then has opportunity to enter the Jewel Zone (JZ) and purchase Native jewelry stolen from SAVs suffering in TRMP.

COMMUNITY RULES: Never share personal information with other players or SAVs, even when SAVs are in TRMP, unless you are redeeming red helmets for PFFFs or MLFs through Andrews, Jackson Media Inc. Cheating, Impersonators, and Trollers: See TRMP. We at Andrews, Jackson Media want you to be careful and have fun.

I tore the guide to shreds, then climbed the ladder and looked up at the projector. I touched it, felt for buttons until I heard it power up. The lens lit, and I climbed back down, waiting for the image of the Indian to appear. The screen was hazy at first, but after a minute the hologram showed a child, a boy with dark bushy hair, sitting cross-legged, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. I moved closer. The image remained still until I knelt down in front of him. He looked at me, and I recognized the face.

“Ray-Ray,” I said quietly.

He blinked slowly, giving me a curious look. His eyes were dark and piercing. His eyes held a complicated gaze, as though I was staring into his spirit. The structure of his face, his hair and body—it appeared just as it did in photographs of Ray-Ray at home. My own memories had grown hazy by this point, I realized. Quickly I stood and moved away, nervous. What was I afraid of? Maybe it was the haunting silence of the late night, or the thought that something could look so much like my brother and yet be a blatant fabrication. The urge to recoil gave me a dizzy feeling that almost made me ill.

“Talk to me,” I whispered. “Say something.”