Story and Analysis - 0b1010 Year Reunion

0b1010 Year Reunion

Michael Anderson - 2900 words 

Chairs filled the room. Row after row of sleek, blue leather chairs, all of which were empty. I strode past them, feeling the urge to sit in one if only to disrupt the scene. At the end of the waiting area a woman wearing a fitted polo stood behind a reception desk facing another woman in a gray cardigan.

“I can assure you, ma’am,” the woman behind the desk said, “everything will be exactly as was requested. You attended the walkthrough last week, correct?”

     “Well, sure, but I’d like to see the space before the event starts. This may be your venue, but I’m the host.”

     “It’ll just be a few more minutes. They’re finishing tidying up.” The woman behind the desk made eye contact with me. “Look, one of your classmates is here,” she said, smiling.

     Mary turned to face me. It was Mary, class president and valedictorian, there was no doubt. Her face was rounder, her hair a bit shorter, and she had soft lines on her forehead--but it was her.

     “James!” she said. “So glad you could make it.” She hugged me with one arm. Stepping back, she raised one of her palms and a holographic notepad appeared above her hand. She scrolled through a list and after a few seconds I saw my name flash across the hologram. She touched it, turning my name green.

     “Looks like a lot of people are coming,” I said.

     “Yes, and a few of them will even be here in person.” She rolled her eyes. “I always knew I’d have to organize this thing, but I never thought it would be half virtual. It’s crazy how fast all this stuff caught on, isn’t it?”

She turned off the notepad and patted down the sides of her skirt. “You’re here early.”

“Never been good at showing up fashionably late.”

     She laughed. “That’s right. I remember.”

     “What have you been up to?”

     “You know; work, work, work. I went to Europe last summer, but you probably saw that on my Feed.”

     “It looked fun.”

     “It was. It really was.”

     “Ma’am,” the woman behind the desk said. “The space is ready for you now.”

     “Oh, fantastic!” Mary turned. The double doors swung slowly open and she stepped through.

     A half-dozen basketball nets hung down between an array of support beams, rectangles of royal blue padding paneled the walls along each baseline, and a yellow ‘B’ was emblazoned over the hardwood at center court. The grids of industrial lighting--harsh and white in my memory--had been dampened and colored to a soft indigo hue. Airy music pulsed through the air, and I recognized the track as one of the songs that had topped the charts during my teens. The only thing breaking the illusion was the fully-stocked bar in the corner, and the unnaturally hard flooring below my feet--concrete rather than the imaged wood.

     “Well, I guess this will have to do,” Mary said, turning as she inspected the venue. “Ridiculous when we could have had the real thing for a fifth of the price, but here we are. Can you believe they charged us extra for that banner?”

She gestured to a collection of multicolored balloons that hovered above our heads, moving as if with the air currents of the room. The banner was tethered to the ground by colorful string on each side, forming an archway. It read: Class of 2019

I waved my hand through the string, seeing it blur and reform.

“Three hundred dollars!” Mary said. “It’s just a bunch of holographic pixels--like the rest of it. We could have had people draw squiggly lines on the lenses of their Rig goggles for the few moments they might have looked at it. Then we could have ordered a larger bar!”

“Do you know if Lauren is coming?” I asked.

     “Oh,” Mary said, turning to me. “Lauren Kelly?” She gave me a knowing smile then pulled out her notepad and scrolled through the names. “Yes. In person, too, if she sticks to her RSVP.”

     A tone sounded from the notepad and Mary’s face lit up. “They’re here!”

On the far side of the gym, a second set of doors swung open. A woman’s avatar walked through.

     “Sharon!” Mary called, and moved swiftly in the hologram’s direction.

Like Mary, Sharon looked much the same as she had in high school--only Sharon was thinner than I remembered and her skin was unnaturally smooth, like porcelain. I wasn’t sure if her unblemished skin was the resolution limitations of the avatar, or if she had applied some type of filter.

The two women went to hug, realized they couldn’t, and exchanged an awkward wave. Others filed in and soon the gymnasium was buzzing with avatars.

     “So, I live in New York now,” Isha said. “But you’ve probably seen that, from my Feed.”

     I nodded. “The shirt reminded me.”

Isha glanced down at her holographic shirt and laughed. “My friend Tracy said it would be ironic. You know, wearing the ‘I Heart New York’ t-shirt. Because I live in New York now and everyone at the reunion would expect me to be kind of flaunting that. Because everyone wants to live in New York or whatever. So the shirt kind of one-ups that, I guess. Leans into it. It’s funny though, right?”

“Sure,” I said, nodding.

“Should I change it? I’ll change it.”

“No, keep it. I like it.”

“But yeah, New York is great.”

Devin’s avatar walked by and I gave him the awkward wave.

“James Miller--in the flesh!” he said. “Wow, you’re looking good! In better shape than high school, even. I can only imagine what most of these digital critters look like in their skin suits.” He laughed. “Have you been working out?”

“Just working”

“Oh? Doing what?”

“Construction.”

“Good money in that?”

“Enough,” I said. “I got laid off though, recently. So now I’m back in town looking for work.”

He nodded, glancing around the party. “How do I look?” he asked.

“Great. Really good.”

“But not too good, right? Like not unrealistically good? Plausible, but improbable, that’s what I’m going for.”

“Sure,” I said.

“I would have come in person, but I live across town now and it just takes so long getting ready to go out. I’m starting to regret not really coming, though. What on God’s green earth are we supposed to do during awkward pauses if we don’t have a drink in our hands?” He looked around the room again until his gaze settled on the bar. “I’ll be back.” He strode off and took a seat at the bar, starting up a conversation with Lydia and Christine K.

Three of the guys from the soccer team were chatting by the folded-up stands.

“I ran my own business for a while,” Steve said, “but then it went under, so now I’m going back to school.”

“Was it automation that killed it?” Greg asked.

“You got it.” Steve nodded.

“Crazy how fast that caught on, isn’t it?”

“Wait,” Ken said. One of his eyebrows was raised and he was looking at Steve. “Didn’t you used to be an Uber driver?”

“Yeah.”

“So what was your business?”

“That was my business. I was an Uber driver. I worked for myself. That was my business.”

Ken opened his mouth but then closed it.

“James,” Greg said, breaking the silence, “have you seen Tyson? He’s around here somewhere.”

“I heard he lives in New York now,” Ken said.

“Yeah, I saw that on his Feed,” said Steve.

“Well, keep an eye out for him,” Greg continued. “He’s even bigger than he was in high school. Don’t know if you can trust the size of the avatar, of course.”

Ken exhaled sharply. “His avatar could be twelve feet tall, have three arms and two heads, and he still wouldn’t look as scary as I remember him.” He surveilled the crowd. “Avatars can’t beat up other avatars, right?”

Greg chuckled for a moment and then blanched. “Wait, can they?”

I noticed a pair of people--real people--chatting under the balloon banner.

Kyle wore the same jean jacket I remembered him in, now with a few dozen more band patches. His long blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail.

“I can’t believe nobody showed up,” he said. He took a sip from his beer and shook his head.

“What do you mean?” Amar asked. He gestured to the crowd. “This must be half our year.”

Kyle waved a dismissive hand at him. “I know for a fact Bruce Alan is bald.” He pointed across the gym. “And there he is with more hair than he had in sophomore year. Hell, I’m losing my hair, I’ve gained weight, but that’s supposed to be what these things are for. Accepting that.” He grunted and took another drink. “Might as well be at home taking in the Feed.”

“I’ve heard they’ve got emotion filters on some of the Rigs now,” Amar said. “The cheap ones don’t have it, but some of the expensive ones do.”

Kyle nodded. “Used to be we’d pay top dollar to make our virtual interactions as real as possible. Now we’re going back the other way.” He shook his head. “Well enough of that,” he said. “You, James, how have you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Just got back into town. Was working construction in Houston but I got laid off.”

“Ha! See, that’s the real stuff,” Kyle said. “Don’t see that on the Feed. That’s why I came here tonight, to have some genuine interactions.” He turned back to the crowd. “But no luck.” He sighed. “Won’t see us all grouped together again. Not for real, anyway.”

Amar nodded.

“Not unless one of us dies,” Kyle continued.

Amar’s eyes widened.

“A funeral, you know,” Kyle said. “No avatars allowed at those. Not yet, anyway.”

The three of us were silent for a few moments and Kyle took another sip from his drink.

“Wait,” Amar said, “no one has died, have they?”

“What? No!” Kyle bristled. “Of course not. Well I don’t think so. We would have seen that on someone’s Feed, I’m sure.”

     Mary walked by talking to Jessica Lam. “Yes, it’s a nice banner. We paid for it, though. Three hundred dollars! They even charged to turn the text to speech feature off, can you imagine? No one would’ve come if people were worried about having their conversations recorded.”

     They walked out the front doors and a woman came in after them. She had long brown hair, a sharp chin, and high cheekbones. There were crinkles around her eyes that I had never seen in person.

     “Lauren Kelly,” I said.

     She hugged me, wrapping her arms around my chest and pulling me tight. She leaned back and looked up into my face without letting go. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

     “Can I get you a drink?” I asked. My heart pounded.

     “Please.”

     “What do you drink, nowadays? I doubt the bar has a line on Sarah’s dad’s liquor cabinet.”

     She laughed. “Surprise me.”

     I headed toward the bar, catching myself grinning halfway there but finding it difficult to stop.

The bar was busy. Most of those physically present had gravitated toward it, but a handful of avatars were sprinkled in between. Charlie, the former quarterback, stood over Devin.

     “I’m just saying, if you can’t even order a drink, you shouldn’t be sitting in one of the few seats at the bar.”

     “Oh buzz off, Charlie,” Devin said, his face pinched. “Sit on top of me if you have such a problem.”

     I found some space at the end of the bar and ordered two lagers. By the time I got back, Lauren was surrounded by a small group of avatars. One of them towered above the others. As my neck craned upward, a shiver crawled down my spine. Tyson might as well have had two heads.

     “So you work construction?” Lauren asked me, as the others listened.

     “Used to, anyway,” I said. “That’s why I’m back in town. Got laid off.”

     “Automation?” Kevin asked.

     “Yep.”

     “Crazy how fast that caught on, isn’t it?”

     “So that’s why you’re here in person?” Tyson smirked. “Can’t afford a Rig?”

     A few of the others in the circle laughed.

     “I could probably afford one.” I shrugged. “Maybe not one as nice as yours.”

     Tyson’s grin flattened out in ultra-high resolution. He wore a fine, tailored suit. I pictured him at home, standing in a spacious office with heavy wood furniture, wearing the suit inside the Rig. Or maybe he was in his parents’ basement, sitting in his boxers.

     Steve entered the circle holding two drinks, smiling like a child.

     “Waiting on someone?” Tyson asked.

     “No,” Steve said, “these are both for me!” He glanced up at the giant avatar. “I can’t believe you didn’t come, Tyson. You’re paying for these drinks regardless, you should be drinking them.”

     “I’m only in town during the summer,” Tyson said. “The rest of the year I spend in New York.”

     “Wow,” Kevin said. “New York! How’s that?”

     Lauren put a hand on my arm and led me away from the group. The gym was nearly full, but we managed to find some space to ourselves along one of the side walls.

     “I’m sorry to hear about your job,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

     I smiled briefly, realizing it was the first real question I’d been asked all night. “It’s a bit tough,” I said, rubbing my neck with one hand. “I’m back with my parents now. It’s just temporary, but I can’t justify getting a place of my own until I find another job.”

     “Yeah.” She frowned.

When she caught my worried stare, she smiled keenly. “You’re making me rethink some of my choices.”

     “You quit your job?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. “Oh, for your music! I’ve been listening to your channel,” I said. “It’s really great. You’ve got a lot of listens! Hits? Streams? I don’t know the word.”

     “Thanks.” She laughed. ”Yeah, it’s a good start.” She leaned up against the wall. “Not really enough to justify quitting though. I just want more out of life than a nine-to-five. I want my art to be my career. I know that’s unrealistic, but someone’s got to do it, right? I might as well try. If I fail I can always go back to sitting behind a desk, staring at a screen eight hours a day.”

     I smiled. “I’m happy you came.”

     “You seemed to be having a bit of a hard time when I walked in.”

     “Really?”

     “You looked like you were in pain!”

     I laughed. “I thought I was hiding that. I don’t know, I guess I’ve felt lost.”

     “Since being laid off?”

     “No, for a while now. It’s like I’ve been floating. This place, the real place, it might be the last time I felt anchored. I thought coming tonight might help, but this isn’t what I was looking for.”

     “I know what you mean,” she said. “The routine of those years, the people, as much as I’ve tried to escape it, it’s so much of who we are.”

     I nodded. “There was something to it, being here together, day after day. We were forced together, sure, but we were together. I didn’t like everyone, even hated some of them, but we had each other. And now we’re so spread out. We’ve still got the constant contact: the Feed, the Stories--but that almost makes it worse. It just serves as a reminder of all these people I used to be so close with, and now only know superficially.”

     “People are there, but they’re not.” Lauren nodded. “Sometimes I feel like all my relationships are like that.”

She let out a long sigh. “We sound so old.”

     “Hell, I feel old,” I said.

     “You’re not. Not yet.”

     She shifted her weight, turning her back to the wall. I leaned against the wall beside her and did the same.

     “I think it’s good you came home,” she said. She reached out and took my hand, lacing her fingers between mine.

We stared out at the room. Neither of us had touched our drinks.

     “Want to get some food?” I asked, after a while.

     “Definitely.”

     Together, we headed toward the door.

Kyle had made his way over to Tyson, standing in the shadow of the colossal avatar. He looked up at him, suspicion evident on his face. “Honestly though, are you really that big?”

     As we approached the exit, I ran a hand through the holographic strings of the banner once more.

“This is a nice sign,” Lauren said.

     “Three hundred dollars.”

     “Really?”

     “That’s what Mary told me.”

     “Wow.”

     The air was cooler in the reception area. We left our beers with the woman at reception and started across the tiled floor.

     “Before we go, we have to stop for a minute,” I said.

“Sure, where?”

“Just here,” I said, angling us toward the rows of blue leather. “I want to sit in one of these chairs.”

END

Analysis

Submission Breakdown

Number of submissions: 5

Form Rejections: 4

Personal Rejections: 1

Requested Revisions: 0

My Opinion

I really like this story. I find it funny. I think it feels serene and I find the setting and interactions realistic and relatable, despite the futuristic setting. I was aiming for a similar vibe to the movie Garden State, and at least on my re-reading, I think I achieved that. I also think this story has the potential to resonate with people who feel disconnected with the individuals from their past in a hyper-connected age.

So Why Didn’t it Get Published?

The opening:

• The opening is a bit too fluffy. Description is something I’ve been working on, but I still don’t always nail it.

• The point of view character isn’t firmly established. This has to do with the character’s motivation taking too long to appear. When it finally does peak its head out, the motivation is a bit nebulous, which doesn’t give the reader something solid to latch onto.

• The opening dialogue is boring (and that was the point). One of the elements I was trying to explore with this piece is how superficial our day-to-day interactions can be. The opening conversation between the PoV (Point of View) character and Mary is irrelevant. They haven’t talked for ten years and the first they bring up is their social media profiles. I may have succeeded in making my point (that our interactions are superficial), but slush readers are looking for any reason to discard a piece—and boring dialogue right off the bat is a pretty good reason!

Humor:

• I tried to include humor in this piece. Humor is hard to do well. First, humor is subjective. For example, I tend to think of New York as a very desirable place to live. If the reader is uninterested in New York, believing it’s dirty or overcrowded, then they might get caught up on disagreeing with the premise of the joke and never have a chance to enjoy it. Humor also relies on surprise. Slush readers don’t know that I’m trying to make a joke and they’re looking for bad writing (reasons to reject the story). If the reader doesn’t trust the author, and they’re busy trying to figure out if something is intended as a joke or if it is just bad writing, they’re not going to laugh. This is something great writers should be able to overcome within the confines of a story (but I might not be there yet!).

Other problems:

• The story slows down a bit in the middle where the three soccer players are chatting about Uber.

• The ending reflections on high school might not resonate with the audience (which is kind of the crux of the piece)

Why Didn’t You Fix It?

“Art is never finished, only abandoned” - Leonardo da Vinci

The short is answer is: I tried. I spent about three weeks working on this piece, then I sent it to my sister (who is my main editor) and made revisions. Next I sent it to a few writer friends who provided feedback and I made changes based off their comments. I knew the issues above were problems. I tried re-writing the beginning—and did, several times. But after spending five years rewriting a novel over and over, I’ve started pushing things out the door earlier (which is one of the attitude shifts that led to the creation of this blog).

I still really like the story. It has problems, sure, but I think it has value. More importantly, by completing it, I’ve learned from the mistakes I made. The next opening I write will hit harder and faster. The character’s motivation will be clear and the description will be better. I Wrote it Wrong, and now (hopefully) I’m one step closer to writing something great.

Thank you for taking the time to read some of my writing. I’d love to hear what you think! Feel free to visit the Contact page or comment below.