Sideways

2045

The fixed end of the first non-traversable portal was established in Mountain View, California in 2045. The random end was first detected by a weather balloon over Antarctica on Friday, December 21st, 2018, at 2:31 PM.

Quantum Nexus

***

2045

In the early days, the stakes of the game were not as high, a thousand credits for the player who stayed in the game the longest each quarter. The winners relinquished control of their senses for the better part of 3 months. The results were not always good. Surprise! Fake stress can be detrimental to your health.
Even still, the popularity of the game increased rapidly. The serious players traded in the boredom of daily life for bragging rights and a chance to win the cash prize. Replays of the disaster simulations, both inside and outside the simulations, became the top-rated programming content. People love to see other people in distress – schadenfreude.
Approval of the game was not universal. My wife Lynda, for instance, wanted the government to put a stop to it, but complaints go unheard when there is money to be made.
One day, the man sitting two booths away from us at the Blarney Spot screamed, threw his egg and coffee substitutes at the empty seat on the other side of his booth, and bolted out the door, knocking over an unoccupied table, slamming into ours, and spilling our drinks. “There goes that knucklehead’s credit score,” said Lynda, mopping up the mess at our table with her napkin.
Other than customers, the Blarney Spot only boasted one human. The manager/dishwasher came reluctantly out from behind the counter to straighten up the dining area, and Lynda spoke to her. “Bring my husband another coffetti, and be sure to charge the guy who just ran out the door.”
“No problem.”
“What the hell is wrong with people?” my wife asked us. “Real life isn’t enough for them anymore!?”
The manager just shrugged and walked away. I tried to answer. “People are bored. forty-two percent unemployment, two of whom just happen to be you and me. We’ve got too much time on our hands. The only thing I have to do is check for the arrival of my guaranteed income and take out the trash. Another six inches and the de-vegitator would have taken off my left leg yesterday. I miss the days when I could at least get out and mow my own lawn.”
“Get a hobby!”
Just to aggravate Lynda, I pretended I was going to trigger the game. “Maybe we should try it. All I have to do is say Sid…”
She dug her fingernails into my arm. “Stop it! Do you think I want to have lunch with a maniac?”
“Ouch! That hurt!” I spelled it out. “S-i-d-e-w-a-y-s. Relax! The simulations are only triggered when you say the whole word out loud.”
“What if you say it by accident without thinking? That’s happened, you know. A lady in Bakersfield saw the ground opening up underneath her. She thought it was a real earthquake.”
“Then you just say the word again, and the simulation stops.”
***
2046
Eventually, we did try it; ironically, Lynda more often than me. The majority of people were infrequent users, but Lynda went Sideways a couple of times a week. She and her Sideways friends enjoyed having a tornado touchdown on a perfectly sunny day, or being attacked by a hundred angry cats or a thousand angry birds like that Alfred Hitchcock movie.
On a Wednesday afternoon last March, my friend Oren interrupted our pickleball match to fight off a swarm of hornets. I sat in the shade and cooled down until it was over. “You know those hornets can’t actually sting you,” I complained. “Why didn’t you just keep playing?”
“There were too many of them! You can’t ignore it. It’s so real!”
“How about we don’t activate disaster modes in the middle of a game.”
“I didn’t. I activated it three hours ago. You never know when it’s going to start or what’s going to happen. That’s the whole point! It’s a rush! If you think about it, the game is like training to prepare you for real disasters.”
“Ridiculous! Studies show it makes you less able to deal with catastrophes. Your adrenalin response gets muted.”
Lynda proved my point a month later. We were hurrying to make an appointment when an out-of-control bus careened around the corner. I stopped at the curb and backed up. She never broke her stride. Just before the bus hit her, she said, “Come on! It isn’t re…”
***
2047

“Sideways.” I was sitting at my usual bar stool, nursing a third drink. Almost before I got the word out of my mouth, the bar door opened; and an attractive woman wearing a short skirt and high heels came in. She sat three stools over, made eye contact, and asked, “What are we drinking, good lookin’?”
“I’m having White Russians. What about you?”
“Maker’s Mark on ice, thanks.” She moved to the stool next to me.
“A Maker’s Mark for the lady, Bernard.” Bernard, the bartender, gave me a quizzical look, but he made the drink and set it on the bar.
The woman and I talked for a while. I couldn’t help wondering if she was real, but it didn’t matter. It had been over a year since I had a conversation with a woman.
I noticed her drink went untouched, but maybe she wasn’t thirsty.
I thought about touching her arm, but that would be inconclusive. The simulations replicated the sense of touch. I could have found out by slapping her hard, but that would be rude.
My only other option would have been to say, “Sideways,” but she might disappear. Like Dorothy clicking her heels three times, I’d be back in Kansas.
When Bernard was tending to another customer at the other end of the bar, she leaned in close and said, “My name is Lucy. Your place or mine?”
I paid for the drinks, and we walked out together. Once we were outside, she hit me with a blackjack, sprayed mace in my face, took my wallet, and ran around the corner in her high heels. I said, “Sideways,” but my wallet was still gone.
***
2048

They came up with a new wrinkle, a shared simulation with double the effect. Oren and I did a three-way with our buddy, Danny. We clasped hands and said, “One, two, three, Sideways.” Then we took our fishing poles to the beach to go night fishing on the jetty. The full moon gave us just enough light, so we hopped 50 yards along the jumble of huge rocks extending out into the water. A half hour went by without any action. Then I saw the wave far out on the horizon underneath the moonlit sky. It would have been easy to assume no danger. At that distance, the wave height did not appear threatening. Hold a pencil sideways at arm’s length. I’ve read that people go down to the shore to see a tsunami. They get bored and look for sharks’ teeth until the water at their feet rushes out to sea, exposing a mile of seaweed and floundering fish. When the tsunami hits, it’s like being hit by a train.
For some reason, I looked at my watch. It was 8:09 p.m.
Oren and I dropped our poles and left them. I started scrambling back towards shore, trying not to break a leg. The channel went dry. Danny was trying to reel in. I screamed at him. “Come on!” I could see sharks, and blues, and dolphins wallowing in the mud. Then I heard a roar like ten freight trains going overhead. “If this is real, we’re going to die!” Then the wave hit. I was being dragged like a dishrag across jagged boulders.
When I managed to struggle to the surface, I turned towards the shore. A solid black wall was destroying the condos clustered along the boardwalk. I could see people being swept into the sides of the buildings and in a torrent rushing up the main street. Then, a sudden flash like lightning lit the sky, followed by an explosion. The electric power plant had just blown up, and all the lights on shore went out.
When the water from the first wave came back out, a section of porch came with it. It was hopeless to resist the temptation, and I grabbed it just in time to see a woman’s terrified expression as she floated by, taken out to sea. My raft was spinning uncontrollably. I heard distant screams. The sky was black, and the cold ocean water lapping against my legs was filled with silt. I felt kelp trying to entangle itself around my feet. Wreckage and debris covered the water’s surface. I kicked off my booties and struggled out of my jeans.
I looked for Oren and tried to stretch my foot to touch the bottom, but I was still out too far. “Sideways!” I screamed. Mercifully, the lights on shore came back on, but I was still in the water. I started to swim. The sensation of the silty water pulling me down persisted even though the simulation was over.
As I got closer to shore, real waves crashed over me. I nearly drowned, but the last big wave picked me up and threw me onto the beach.
I found myself lying naked on the wet sand. People walked by, but no one offered to help. I found Oren a few feet away. Together, we found Danny. He must have died before he drowned. His lungs were not filled with water.
***
December, 2048

They tripled the prize money and introduced a new wrinkle, the Doppelganger effect. If you saw your doppelganger in Sideways, you were supposed to do battle with yourself. If you were squeamish, you could just let your doppelganger kill you. But everyone knew they wouldn’t get to see themselves on the big screens unless they made it look real. And your doppelganger was supposed to be a simulation, so empathy or remorse wouldn’t be a factor.
The first time I saw my doppelganger was in a dream. In the dream, I found myself in a corridor with many doors, like the hallway of a hotel. One of the doors was open a crack. I did not dare push it farther open, but I stood outside to listen. A voice said, “Who’s there?” I didn’t answer, nor did I move away for fear my footsteps would reveal my presence. The person on the other side slowly opened the door. It was me! We were both startled.
I must have said, “Sideways,” in my sleep.
The next day, I saw my doppelganger on the street and realized the game was on!
He passed by on the other side, moving in the opposite direction, trying to look straight ahead instead of at me. I saw him again an hour later outside the Blarney Spot. He looked angry, and this time he was glaring at me and cursing. “I know you and what you want, but I’m going to get you first!” He came at me waving a ka-bar. I wasn’t carrying anything but a bag of onions. I dropped the onions, ran through the Blarney Spot, knocking over some tables and bumping into the manager. It was a different manager. I apologized and kept running. I ran through the kitchen, out the back door, and into the alley by the decintegrator. My doppelganger followed me. I jumped onto the decintegrator and hoisted myself over the fence.
I went to the Wild West Gun Shop and bought a gun. I didn’t want to shoot him. I figured I could scare him off.
I passed an alley, and he leaped out of the alley behind me. When I turned to face him, he swung his knife in a deadly arc, slicing an eighteen-inch gash in my jacket. The tip of his knife must have gotten home. My blood welled up and soaked my shirt. I pulled my gun and pointed it in his direction. “Leave me alone, or you’re a dead man.” The gun sobered him. He snarled, sheathed his knife, and walked away.
I locked my doors, but I didn’t sleep well. I dreamt my doppelganger got in and cut my throat. The next morning after breakfast, I resolved to find him and put an end to it.
When I found him, I fired three times in his direction. I saw the bullets explode into the concrete wall behind him. Concrete and concrete dust fell on his jacket. Oddly, his jacket had the same eighteen-inch gash as mine. He brushed the debris off, cursed in my direction, and walked away. I hoped that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t.
That night, he broke down my front door with a sledgehammer, and I shot him twice in the chest. With his dying breath, he said, “Sideways,” but he didn’t disappear. His face no longer looked like mine. It was Oren, and the blood was real.
***

The ratings for the episode between Oren and me went through the roof, but that was the first and last time two humans had been pitted against each other, both seeing a reflection of themselves. Nobody was supposed to die, not like that. The public outrage forced the cancellation of the game. Now there’s a whole new game with prehistoric animals. I don’t play it.