Hell to Play

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. The warm sun sagged in the sky. The big blue above me bore down and invited me to keep walking forward, but it was so hard. I couldn’t help but stop and look at things. I felt reborn the way someone who has a near death experience feels alive for the first time. 

The all new game from Facebook, cutely called, “Faceplace” was not anymore a game than Facebook was a game. It was a simulation, a very, very real simulation, filled with other real people. 

It’s not really my cup of tea. I had to reset my password just to log in. I wouldn’t be here except my own daughter, Mia, disappeared into her bedroom and hasn’t been out for over 12 hours. Before I left for work, she said she would just “play a quick round before school.” but she was still playing when I got home and she didn’t come down for dinner. 

As I walk down the street, I’m tempted to stop and admire the leaves on the trees again. No matter how many times I see them, I’m constantly surprised by their beauty. I can see even the tiniest leaf-vein running from the tip to the stem. Then I notice for the umpteenth time my thumb, my veiny hands, my sensible flats on my shoes, my apple shaped body. I’m all here. Even though it’s virtual it’s completely believable.

My pace quickens. I’m not sure where I’m going, but I feel the need to get there quickly. Mia could be in danger. The thought leaves me cold and I let out a primal scream.

I hear a scream in the distance too. A blood curdling, run for your life scream. I run to the end of the street and see the first disgusting scene in this beautiful landscape. A black building, 50 floors high and a full mile wide and deep.

I run there as fast as I can, which isn’t very fast for a 54 year old woman. This “game” hasn’t granted me any special powers. Inside, there’s a help desk, with a kindly looking overweight lady sitting there pouring over some paperwork. I rush up and ask to see my daughter. I see from the badge on her breast her name is Phyllis. I’m panting, but with every other breath I inform Phyllis that I’m a blood relation and that it’s extremely urgent and I’m worried that it might be a life or death situation.

She assures me, in the way that I’m sure she’s said hundreds of times before, that everything is fine and that there is nothing to worry about, but if I’d like she could have a nurse come meet me and escort me to the room.

I sit in the waiting room. The fluorescent lights bask me in an ethereal glow. It’s empty and sterile. I have too much nervous energy so I get up and start pacing. A horror movie plays in my mind of every possible scenario that might explain what sort of danger Mia is in. I’m craving some chocolate, so I take a look at the vending machines, but you need Facebook Pay to pay for it and I don’t have it set up on my account.

A nurse my age comes into the waiting room, looks at her clipboard, and calls my name. I follow her through some hallways and into an elevator up to the 11th floor. We make eye contact in the awkward silence that comes with every elevator ride and she smiles at me. From the look in her face, this is all routine. There really doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about but that doesn’t stop me from worrying.

We pass door after door, down hallway after hallway. I hear the occasional scream, but also giggling and crying too. Finally, we arrive at a door labeled, “Mia Fernanda Martinez,” in the characteristic Facebook blue and white.

The nurse opens the door for me and I step inside, unsure what to expect. The anxiety is bubbling through my veins. There on the hospital bed lies a little girl squirming. She seems worried too, but I can’t tell why. A bulky black visor covers her eyes and is strapped to her head. 

“What’s going on? We have to help her!” I say as I rush to her bedside and cup her cold hands in mine.

The nurse stands there with a smile plastered on her face. “She’s fine. It’s just part of the simulation she’s in. Everyone in the simulation experiences some unpleasantness. I assure you she is perfectly safe inside the facility.

I’m not sure how to take that. How can anyone just stand by and watch people suffer? I have to do something.

“I see. Would you mind leaving us alone for a minute?”

“I’m sorry, we’re not allowed to leave Guests unsupervised.” She says it just a little too forcefully. But I have to rescue my girl. I have to get the nurse out of here.

“I understand,” I lie, “I’m ready to go now.” I get up and walk to the door. As the nurse holds the door open to let me out, I shove her as hard as I can. She extends both hands to catch her fall. She rolls over and looks at me with a shocked expression. Clearly this has never happened before. In that moment, I quickly slam the door shut behind her and lock it.

I turn around to see my little girl has calmed down. The nurse is pounding on the other side of the door. I hear her calling for backup. It sounds like I don’t have much time.

I walk back to Mia’s side and as I do, I see her legs move as if she were walking in her simulation too. I whisper in her ear, “We have to get you out of here.” I desperately hope she can hear me, but the way she mumbles something, I can tell she doesn’t. She’s blissfully unaware that she’s locked in a prison.

I’m not sure what will happen, but I grab the visor and start to pull it off. Immediately, Mia begins to howl in rage. She flails her arms and legs like she’s possessed and I have to back up to avoid getting a black eye. The pounding on the door intensifies. 

She’s calmed down just enough for me to get close. I walk around her bed untucking her sheets. Then I quickly swaddle her into a cocoon. I can tell she hates every minute of it because she’s now rocking back and forth, struggling to move freely. 

This has to work. This has to work. I don’t know what will happen next, but this has to work. I take one final deep breath and rip the headset off.

The door bursts open and a full marching band enters playing John Phillips Sousa. Confetti rains down from the ceiling. I look around at all the faces smiling at me and giving me congratulations. I can’t understand what’s going on until someone points out Mia on the bed isn’t Mia at all. 

It’s me.

I’m lying in bed sleeping. Then my form begins evaporating. It fades into nothingness. The heap of blankets collapse and I realize the room is disappearing too. 

I’m surrounded by pure whiteness. Not even my body, the one I was seeing through, exists. I become aware of existence in another place. I can feel my clothes and my visor on my face, like the one I thought Mia was wearing, even though I don’t see them. There’s a heaviness to them pressing down on my skin that didn’t exist before. 

“YOU WIN” is emblazoned in bright gold font hovering in front of a pure white background. To the right, credits scroll up from below, appearing from nothing and fading out at the top, the people who built the simulation. 

I realize I’ve been playing a game this whole time. I rouse my real body and take off my visor. My real body. It takes me a minute to process that thought. I get up and go to the computer at my desk that was running the game. There’s a prompt that says, “Play again?” 

I think to myself, “Ok, just one more time before work.”