Reality Heist - Geordi Riker (ready player one ebook TXT) 📗

“Great, just judge me by my clothes, would you? The way I dress doesn't mean that I'm one of those 'self-aware' people you seem so bent on scamming.”

“I thought you didn't know anything about Inner Calling?”

“Dude, I saw enough of the place to pass a fairly good judgment. The place is  cult. Do you even believe in what you're teaching? It just looks like you shoved a pile of doctrines from other religions and cults together, added a few secret spices of your own, and presto, the 'discipline' of Inner Calling was founded.”

“Actually, Inner Calling serves as a channel to help people find their place in the world. Our mandate is to protect the future by enabling the people of the present to tap into their potential.”

“What gave you the idea that you guys have to protect the future? And what makes you think that  'tapping into your inner potential' is gonna make that happen?” This guy's a whack job. I just want to find out why.

“I had a vision.”

I snort, “Yeah, that's how it always starts.”

“Well, I guess it was more of a sudden clarity of mind than a vision. It happened when Ruth, my daughter was in intensive care. I realized that people were just living, concerned about their own lives, barely paying attention to global affairs, not thinking about the future but simply what was in store for them. Down that path is only the annihilation of our world.”

He proceeds to tell me an in depth description of what it was exactly people at Inner Calling were doing. Before I realized what he was doing, he had pressed his book into my hand, as well as a business card. I heard myself respond to his invitation of a personal tour. I watched in a daze as he left, hopping off the bus as it pulled over for another stop, smiling, saying “See you soon then,” with a wave.

I stay on the bus for another half an hour before stepping off again, filling the time with reading the book Jason gave me. It starts off with a bit of a biography as an introduction, explaining how exactly he had come up with his idea. It was all just a repeat of what he had just finished telling me. I skipped to the good part:

“Our goal is to ensure that every human being comes to grips with the fact that they are unique, and that within them is the special potential to change the world. Our mission is to help people realize and fulfill their Inner Calling.”

Someone clears their throat, and I glance up to see Skip looming over me. I snap to attention, shoving the book beside me. “I... uh, it was just lying there, and I was curious...” I start to stammer out.

Skip waves the excuse away, “I don't care what you were doing. Actually, I sort of do. Why are you on a bus? Jesse's been going nuts about how fast you're moving between locations, we were all convinced that you were running for your life for something.”

He whirls about and stalks down the aisle. I follow, taking the book with me as an after thought. “Sorry,” I mumble.

He doesn't look back until we're on the sidewalk, the bus pulling away from the curb. He glances at me, a frown creasing his eyebrows, “Where's your backpack?”

We both stare at the disappearing bus, losing itself in the sea of traffic. “Shit.” I realize where it is. “It's not on the bus.”

Skip looks at me, confused, “Okay then, where is it?”

I bite my lip, “It's at the Inner Calling center.”

“The what?” He doesn't know what it is, or maybe he's just stunned that I left it there.

“That's where I slid to. And then this guard tried to arrest me because he thought I was high, and I had to book it out of there.”

Skip sighs, “Alright, I'll send Jesse or Ky to retrieve it.”

“Actually, it's not going to be that easy.” I flinch at the next words that come out of my mouth, “I kind of came to in a restricted area, you know ,a  'members only' deal.”

“Which means a separate lost and found, expecting one of their own to pick it up in the end. So basically, what you're telling me is that we have to go steal your backpack back?”

I shrug as I scratch my ear, “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” This whole time, he's had this calm, emotionless voice, but now some irritation slips in, “You know what? We're staying at 5432 Lowden heights on Yorkshire Avenue. I'll tell the doorkeep you're coming. Go get the bag.”

“Huh? How?”

“Figure it out. Call it a baptism by fire. Your mess, you clean it up.” He wheels around and starts to leave. Almost as if it were an afterthought, he turns around, digging in his pocket, “Here's some cash. It won't get you far, so use it wisely.” With that, he walks away, leaving me alone in the middle of nowhere with a couple hundred bucks.

I glance around the city, taking in the sight. Glass-sided office buildings stand beside federal buildings along the one street. The bus had dropped us by a mall entrance, people went in empty-handed and came out with shopping carts and hands loaded, wallets empty. People who hadn't driven were crowding the sidewalk, either waiting for buses or are walking home.

I shove the money into my pocket and head for the bus shelter, grateful to see that the poster on the wall isn't some stupid advertisement but is an actual road map with different colors highlighting the different routes the buses take. My eyes take in the information in a glance, the information zooming through my head as I quickly make sense of the chaotic lines that crisscross each other. I ask a  passerby for the time.  Bus 78 will stop by here in ten minutes on it's way to the Super Dome in the middle of town, passing right by the Inner Calling center.

I sit down with the book, and in almost no time 78 appears. I board and take a seat near the front, hiding the cover. In an hour, I'm going to waltz right back into the building I had  to run away from. Maybe Jason will be there, that would make things go a lot easier. I stare out the window, watching the rest of the world go by.

I snort as I realize the situation. This is the first time in weeks that I've had a break alone. No Hiyori, no Jesse, nobody to disturb this little break. I should probably be trying to figure out what to say once I reach the center, but all I can do is relax against the seat as my eyes glaze over. It feels almost as if I'm on my way home from a day spent at the skate-park. I'm exhausted, my legs ache, and I have a few new bruises. The only  thing missing is my black and green skateboard propped up on the seat beside me so that I wouldn't have to talk to any one who would have sat there. My cheeks feel damp, and I use the back of my sleeve to wipe the tears away.

Normally, riding the bus alone, I'm planning how to annoy Mom and at the same time stay in my room for as long as possible. Sometimes, I'd try to figure out the coolest way to tell what had all happened at the park to impress Will, wonder what was for supper, if Mom would even be home when I finally showed up. Sometimes her second job made her work late Saturdays, leaving Will alone in the house. Mom actually preferred that Will stay home instead of hanging out with me at the park. I guess she caught sight of Alice, my best-friend who had a tiny bit of an addiction to crack for a while and plastered herself with real and ballpoint tattoos, and that kind of shut down any chance Will will ever have of coming with. At least at home, the worst she can do is raid the cupboard of the meager supply of junk food we have.

My thoughts are still wrapped up in memories of home when the bus pulls over outside the center. The sun has started to disappear behind the taller buildings, and the streets are less crowded. I'm the only one to get off.

The bus pulls away from the curb. An old man sitting in the back turns his head as the bus passes, the look of disapproval obvious on his face. I tuck the book into a deep pocket on the side of my pants and descend the stairs that lead to the little plaza in front of the main entrance. A few people are leaving the building, obviously visitors by the stickers that are still attached to their shirts. I zip up my jacket a little bit higher before entering, completely covering the “Speaking Is NOT Communication” slogan on the front as a way to make myself a little more presentable.

I open one of the glass double doors, warm air drifting out to greet me. I step inside, wary of the person who walks up to me, a smile plastered on his face, “Hello, welcome to the Inner Calling Center. I'm Max. Do you have any questions before you begin your path to enlightenment?”

“Yeah,” I reply without even thinking, “Can you introduce me to someone who doesn't follow the script typed out by people who have never seen daylight”

Without missing a beat, he gives me a broader smile, “Let me show you where the front desk is so that you can sign in.”

I follow him to one of the many secretaries positioned along the wall, stopping at one on the phone. She glances up at him, slides a look at me, and holds up a finger, asking us to wait a moment.  I glance at Max, who's busy studying one of the brochures on the counter.

How do I ask to get into the members-only lost and found? That's going to raise some awkward questions. The longer I stay here, the longer people have to recognize me as the kid that ran out of here just a couple hours ago. I shove my hands in my pocket, fingering through the cloth the book. They can't accuse me of stealing that, the thing was well-read.

Finally, after an eternity, the secretary got of the phone. “What can I do for you today?” she asks, leaning in as close as she can.

“I need to speak with Jason.” The words come out before I can stop them. I think about it for a moment, yeah, that's the best I can do.

“I'm sorry, Mister Tuinstra's in a meeting.”

“Just,” I search for a way to let him know it's me, “Tell him that it's Brandee from the bus this afternoon. I'm returning his book. That should send him down.”

“Mr. Tuinstra has been in meetings all day. He hasn't even left the executive floor.”

“No, maybe we're talking about different Jasons. I'm talking about this one.” I dig out the book and point to the guy on the front cover.

The secretary begins to lose interest, “I'm talking about that Jason too. He has been in meetings all day, what with the press conference scheduled for this evening.”

“Look, if he left orders to not let me through, fine. Just tell him that I really need his help.”

The secretary looks past me, her eyebrows shooting up as her mouth twitches in annoyance. I look over my shoulder to see who she's staring at. It isn't hard to pick out who annoyed her more than I could.  A guy who looks nineteen is walking towards us, hands shoved deep in pockets of the baggy jeans he's wearing along with a green shirt with the green lantern symbol on it. He has the same brown eyes as Jason, and has the same