Chapter Two

The following day

Alex had been spending her Sunday afternoon on SUP-X (a social media app that allowed people to communicate through calls, chat-rooms, and videotelephony); it was the only way she and her friend could speak to one another. 

Braeden Willingham, though Alex made sure to only call him that as an insult, went by the screen-name Gecko on SUP-X. Alex's username was lexi_ramiro (she used the same USER ID on every social media platform.)

Alex's room – perhaps because she had a fascination with the cosmos – had been decorated with posters and paintings of outer-space. Those, and an assortment of bedclothes that her mother often told her to tidy up. The walls had been coated with a pale hue of purple.

There was a dreamy scent of wildflowers brought about by an automatic air freshener on her windowsill. It was set to spray a fragrance every thirty minutes. At times, the spray would make Alex jump, usually when she was concentrating on a game of chess or a particularly unnerving movie. 

Guess nothing comes without a price, she would sometimes think. 

And, like many others in a cutting-edge cityscape, her room had been her dungeon. In fact she kept a ＤＯ ＮＯＴ ＤＩＳＴＵＲＢ sign on the opposite side of the door. Not because she disliked visitors, but because it acted as a reminder for her parents to knock before entering.

The sun glittered off the mirror of her wardrobe and cast a diffused golden light across her bedchamber. She could feel its heat seep into her skin.  

Alex had been on her gaming PC since about 11:00 A.M.

She sighed, turning to look out across the metropolis. The past few days had brought about an untoward feeling that she couldn't quite slip her tiny banana fingers around. It wasn't depression – she was far too cheerful for that. No, maybe it was the UFO.

Could that be it? I mean, I've always believed in UFO's – but now, I know. We all know they're real. But why?

Such a question she could not answer. But maybe that wasn't what made her feel different – perhaps it was her fear of what the UFO might've meant for humanity. 

An invasion? Surely not. 

Her face was bright now. And from her phone, set alongside the colourful keyboard on her desk, came the low and gentle sound of EDM. Her favourite type of music. 

On her desk, there was a half-empty (or was it half full?) can of Diet Coca-Cola with a straw in it, followed by a crumpled piece of tissue paper that she had recently used to wipe her nose. 

"I just don't think they'd actually show something like that if it did exist," Alex told Gecko over a SUP-X call, headphones wrapped around her nicely cut hair. 

"Hm," he agreed. "And based on the reports of NASA and the government, it's likely the case that they're trying to direct our attention away from something much more serious. Possibly an attack. If you think about it, why would they be so light-hearted about a flying saucer if their entire existence is based around searching for extraterrestrial life? Seems kinda sketchy—"

"Yeah," Alex added. You must have big lungs.

"—and if it is an attack then another World War will break out because of the current economic crises in the southern and western regions—pretty much every region nowadays. And have you noticed that they wrote 'near future!' at the end? That seems like a hint towards more mysterious images that will definitely arrive. Expect them to post more shit like this."

Alex took a sip from her Diet Coca-Cola and smiled, revealing her blue braces. "Dude, how do you manage to say everything in one breath?"

He laughed. "There's a reason I am able to bullshit my way out of answering questions in class: by speaking nonstop for five minutes straight."

"Yeah, I literally zoned out for like your entire speech and then when I realised what the fuck you were saying I was like, 'This dude still speakin'? Huh?'"

"Nah, but seriously, B," Gecko began, "I'm curious to see where this goes. Like back in Philly my gramps said he saw a UFO. This was a long-ass time ago, though. The idea, maybe, is that he wanted me to believe in something. But remember years back, when they released that footage of quote-on-quote 'UFO's'? They looked nothing like this picture. So I'm guessing one of the two is fake. Or that, maybe, there's multiple species far beyond us."

Alex coughed vociferously, but made sure to mute her mic before doing so. 

Cola must have went down the wrong way, she thought. Or the flu is kickin' in, I dunno. 

She unmuted her mic and said, "Okay, I think I needa go now. My dad's probably gonna call me for food. I might be on later, though. But me, Phoenix and Andy are meeting up at the arcade. I'll shoot you a text when I'm back."

"I'ma keep it one hundred with you: my mama has a list of chores she wants me to do so don't expect nothin'," Gecko said.

Alex laughed and replied, "No problem, I'ma go get food I guess."

"Hm," Gecko said. "Enjoy y'all's white people food. Ya boy gonna make some mac 'n' cheese and then take a long shit."

She laughed and said, "See ya."

"See ya."

Alex ended the call, causing it to make a brief swooshing sound. What followed was a moment of silence. 

DING!

A notification popped up on SUP-X. The profile picture had been a duck with a pair of sunglasses and a hat. It was Phoenix—when are we going out tod—

                                          ~"AMONGST THE SKY"~

—ay? 

Phoenix glanced up from his phone and took a look around, then stuffed it in his right pocket. Clusters of thick, cerulean mist drifted through the VR Centre. He'd been standing atop a vert ramp, watching as the scenery below began to darken into an inky hall. It had been about the size of a football field, and the ceiling had been at least thirty feet high. A row of pillars aligned against the back walls with a bright and electric sign buzzing the words: RETROVE CENTRE!

Phoenix threw on his face-mask and helmet. He breathed heavily through the clothing, reminding himself a little of Darth Vader. 

He bent down to pick up his hover-board, jammed it under his arm, reached into his left pocket and pulled out a violet key-card. He approached the starting line, where four other participants waited in their nanosuits. Some were pink, others blue and red, but Phoenix's was silver, the same as the jacket he usually wore on nights out. There was something about that shiny colour that made him feel special. 

He smiled under the face-wear. 

Loud dance music rang out into the centre, echoing against the walls like tomtoms playing at a concert. 

Phoenix reached down to his nanosuit and zipped it up to the base of his chin. 

The suit, he learned, had been designed to bring him into an artificial world – the virtual space. He had been told so during one of his physics lectures at The Oceanside High Academy, further along the East coast of Violetwall. And it made him think: if we can make suits as complex as these, can't we make machines to travel the cosmos in the same way as UFOs? But that dream (he was a very dreamy boy) had been proven impossible after light-powered energy took over the world. Every machine was to be powered by light; it became a new order when civilisation realised the ozone layer was fracturing, dissolving, some would say, from the effects of fossil fuels and years of humanitarian control. 

"Okay," a godlike voice echoed throughout the centre."Ladies and gentlemen, prepare your boards!"

Phoenix switched on his hover-board by swiping the violet key-card down the middle. He let go and watched it levitate a couple inches off the ramp. A strong downdraught circled at the bottom of the board with a hum. He stepped on. A pair of metal cuffs sprung up from the surface of the board and strapped in his feet. 

The voice echoed, "Get ready! Set! . . . GO!"

The lights of the centre darkened fully and divulged a black hall with lines of red passing through the ground floor. Phoenix quickly elevated a couple more inches off the floor. They took off, speeding down the vert ramp. Phoenix could feel the air push against his body as he gained control of his momentum.

The nanosuit activated and he could sense that warm fuzzy feeling, as if his whole body had pins and needles. 

The first phase of the race was just about to begin, and when it did, he could see the red lines of the track mould into a snake run. His sharp eyes caught it unfold and he immediately brushed past his opponents, taking the lead. 

There had been a tree outlined in red some metres ahead of him, stairsets that travelled throughout the darkness, and a full pipe inching its way towards him in the distance.

Repetitive retro music beat in the background. 

In one quick motion, with his arms stretched out for balance, Phoenix hopped on the bar of the stairset and skidded along the virtual steel, causing a long metallic sound to follow him. 

From his view, he could see a points system in the top left corner of his helmet, a holographic screen. It read: 1st: 2936p. A time system that would count upwards as well: 41 SECONDS. And a voice responding to his movements, God's voice: "Wicked!" It was almost comical, Phoenix thought. But he knew he loved it. The adrenaline, the enjoyment, and the wonderment of the modern world. How lucky he was to be born into such a majestic and highly advanced civilisation. 

"Here we go." Phoenix's voice sounded as if it had been modulated. A deep, anonymous sound. 

He jumped off the bar with a perfect landing and looked at the upcoming full pipe. His ears snatched something. Was that a snap below his feet? He stiffened. Something was wrong down there but he didn't have time to look. He reached the full pipe and swirled through the centre like a whirlpool. He followed the sound of the rhythmic beat through the pipe. Then, another noise: SNAP!

His hover-board gave in to the pressure of his feet and broke. He stumbled during his third circle around the pipe and fell to the bottom, hitting his helmet off the floor. He felt no pain, but fumbled for his hover-board until the arcade eventually unveiled itself – the Retrove sign was back and the pockets of blue mist returned. He was back in the VR Centre. He could still hear the rhythmic beat in the background of his helmet along with numbered whooshes passing by his ears. The other players. Those, and a sound that would probably annoy him for an hour or so: his inner-voice telling him: Dumbass!

An employee from the Retrove walked over to him after about a minute. "You might want to buy a board, kid."

Yeah, and you might want to get a new job!—"I know," Phoenix said, scowling under his helmet. "It just broke for no reason."

Phoenix got a good look at the employee. He had long brown hair that fell over his eyes and touched the bottom of his chin, an expression that reminded him of those kids who sat at the back of the class and complained about everything, and skin that looked as though it had a mutually positive relationship with acne cream. He held some sort of car-key in his right hand. Then there was his tag: Scott.

"C'mon." Scott extended his arm to help Phoenix up. "I should probably preface this by saying that if you have any more than two accidents here, you'll be suspended for three months. Not just for your safety but for the jeopardy of the game as well. Parents phoning in and whatnot." 

"Thanks." Phoenix looked around. "Uh, how do I . . .?"

Scott pressed the button on what Phoenix thought was a car-key. A flight of red stairs popped out from the wall a couple metres to the right. It led up to a ledge that he could use to get to the exit. "Ooh, closer than I thought!" Scott recoiled. 

After a couple of minutes, Phoenix headed outside the building, dumped his broken hover-board in the trash, and felt the strengthening wind push against his face. The sun glimmered off the smooth ground and shone a glint of light across the city windows. Cars passed through the streets, beeping at the oncoming traffic. Just another day in Violetwall. 

He looked up at The Spire in the distance, its beautiful glass body surrounded by cumulus clouds and a clear blue sky. Drones flew across the buildings that reclined alongside it. 

Wow, he thought. Just . . . wow.

BUZZ! BUZZ!

Phoenix felt a vibration in his pantleg. He stuffed his hand deep into his right pocket and pulled out his phone, checked the time (3:46 P.M.), and saw a notification from Gecko on SUP-X.

Braeden.

And the text: It's real.